


Ready or Not, Here I Come

by TheCorpseGarden



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Escape, F/M, Multi, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 61,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCorpseGarden/pseuds/TheCorpseGarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They did not know him. They did not know how crazy he was, or how crazy he could be. Following his devious God's orders, Hidan of the Akatsuki set out to destroy two siblings, Seven and Flare. However, things took a swift change for the worst when her brother was dying and Seven wished to strike a deal with the Jashinist priest.<br/>She made him a promise that she could not keep, and fled her family home in hopes of escaping his venomous clutches. Oh, but when the mighty Hidan wants something, he makes damn sure that he gets it. Be it blood, be it gore, or be it a woman's fine flesh, all of his needs are sated in nothing more than one night.<br/>“Seven…” he whispered playfully, letting her name slither off his tongue, “…Get out here, or I’ll have to start playing rough…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Say You'll Haunt Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I have been working on this piece for several years. I first published it on Fanfiction.net, and received quite a bit of approval. Just recently, I decided to fix up the plot, the original characters, and Hidan. I feel like this new, revamped version is much better. I hope that some of you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> This fanfic is meant to be a multi-chapter story, so I will be updating it periodically throughout the rest of this year (and probably next year). I would love to hear any feedback you may have, as it gives me motivation to carry on writing, and gives me an idea of how I am doing.
> 
> Happy reading!

Chapter One: Say You’ll Haunt Me

“Ready or not, here I come.”

 

The soft whisper rang like music through their ears, sending a cool autumn-like chill across their sweaty skin. The voice was eerie, mischievous, and _playful_ , as if it belonged to a small child.

 

But had it belonged to a young child in need of a friend, they would not have been huddled away in their hiding spot. Their house would not be in shambles, nor would either of them be injured. Alas, had it been the voice of a harmless little boy, Seven would have burst from her hiding place and hugged him. Instead, she sat in silence. Instead, she gripped her brother’s hand desperately, fearing for their lives.

 

The sweet, beckoning voice was not as it seemed; they already knew this.

 

The pair were huddled for warmth in the cool darkness of a closet. They were cold and terrified, unsure of what their fate held. Flare pulled his hand to his mouth and shook his head. Tears were spilling from his wide blue eyes. He forced himself to hold back the whimpers that so desperately wanted to emerge. Seven gripped his hand tighter and looked away. Salty tears were also sliding down her rosy cheeks, but she did not want her little brother to see them. She was the sibling who kept him from falling apart. She was the sibling who was always calm and collected in dreadful situations. During their parents’ funeral, she had waited until she was alone to cry. Flare had been the one sobbing during the burial, wishing death upon their parents’ murderers.

 

A soft sniffle came from Flare’s direction and Seven gave his hand a light squeeze. They could not afford to give themselves away. She found herself wishing that they were playing a silly game of hide-and-seek, without the threat of death looming over them.

 

Wiping her eyes, Seven leaned forward to inspect the room beyond the closet. Though a closet was an obvious hiding spot, it was still a hiding spot. _‘Maybe that headshot I gave him will render him stupid,’_ she thought, and almost laughed. There was nowhere to escape. He would come for them and he would find them. Once he found them, he would kill them. Seven heard Flare gulp; he was thinking the same thing.

 

The closet was dark and uninviting. There were boxes behind them, and clothes on countless hangers. They had decided to sheath themselves behind the clothes if they saw their predator lurking close by. They knew that it was not the best plan – running away would have been their best plan – but they could do no better. There was a slim chance that their attacker might look in the closet only briefly, and neglect to look behind the dangling clothing; their lives rode on that slim chance.

 

Seven winced as she felt more blood trickle down her arm. Thinking back made her want to vomit. Her vision was still shaky from their previous battle. She needed medical attention; they _both_ did. Surprisingly enough, bleeding out was not their worst problem. The killer downstairs, lurking from room to room in their house, was their worst problem. Worst of all, they lived in a small, simple house away from nosy neighbours.

 

Their lethal game of hide-and-seek was set up so that only the seeker would win – the hiders would be slaughtered.

 

Seven looked at her brother’s upper arm and grimaced; he had received the nastiest wound. The cut stretchede from his shoulder down to his elbow, and it was threateningly deep. A butcher’s knife had done that to him. She knew it could have been worse for him, had he not dodged the hammer making a beeline for his neck. He had escaped the attack with a shattered shoulder blade and index finger – small prices to pay.

 

The reckless stranger had attacked them with pure vigour, as if he had something great to gain from their deaths.

 

He had knocked on their door softly. She recalled Flare complaining about late night visitors being annoying, as he rushed to open the door. Instead of a friendly welcome, the stranger took out his large triple-bladed scythe and threatened them. He wanted them to die for a ‘glorious purpose’. He wanted to feel their pain as they died a slow death.

 

Within mere minutes, Flare had miraculously managed to get the weapon from his hands and fling it across their lawn. He had thought that the stranger would chase after his precious weapon. Instead, he threw Flare across the living room and went straight for Seven. Tackling the confused girl to the ground, he laid on top of her for several seconds, whispering horrible things into her ear.

 

Finding her strength from her fear, Seven managed to use one of her hands to tip the nearby coffee table onto his back. The distraction had proved to be useful, as the man was momentarily incapacitated while she scrambled away from him. They both got to their feet and Seven tried to run for the kitchen. Grabbing her long, brown hair, the stranger had spun her around and backhanded her. The force of the slap had been strong enough to ground her once again.

 

Fortunately, Flare had gathered his bearings by them. He body-slammed the man into the wall. She had to admit that her fifteen year old brother had really started to bulk-up from his ninja training.

 

The stranger became dazed and stayed on the ground for a several moments before he growled at them. The siblings ran into the kitchen and grabbed whatever weapons they could find. Seven wielded two sharp knives and Flare had chosen a knife and a steel meat hammer. The trouble really began when the man wrestled the cutlery from the boy’s hands.

 

He had knocked Flare to the ground in a matter of seconds and stood over him with a smug smirk. He drew the hammer up and intended for it to collapse onto his neck, but it never connected. Flare had been too fast for the blow. Instead, the hammer had shattered his shoulder. While he screamed in agony, the man laughed. He brought the hammer down on his finger, adding to the young boy’s pain.

 

At that point, Seven sprang into action and stabbed her knife into the stranger’s upper arm. Instead of pain, the man seemed to cherish the feeling for a moment before slapping her to the ground once more. At that point, Seven was confused as to why he was not making any moves to seriously injure her. He removed the knife from his arm and shot it toward the disoriented woman, striking her in the same place she had struck him and ending her confusion. She cried in pain as she felt the metal rip through her flesh. At the same time, the stranger had crawled atop Flare and carved a butcher’s knife through his upper arm. His screams shook their entire house, as well as his older sister’s heart.

 

Dislodging the knife from her shoulder, she jumped on the man’s back and toppled him to the ground with her, using her weapon to rip and slash at his chest. He laughed sadistically at her petty attempt to harm him, and quickly shoved her away. Grabbing the hammer yet again, he began to bring it down on her spine. Had Flare not been quick enough, Seven might have ended up paralysed.

 

The battle continued for about half an hour before Seven ended it; she grabbed the metal meat hammer and smacked the man in the head. Blood gushed from the wound and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

 

The pair stood still for a long time, wondering if they had killed him. Only Flare had been trained in ninja arts. The most Seven knew was basic self-defence and special techniques that their parents had left behind.

 

Their chances of winning had been almost non-existent.

 

The only reason they had survived had been due to their quick thinking and smart movements. They had never wanted to kill. They had never _expected_ to kill.

 

 

Seven had flinched as she noticed the man’s shallow, laboured breaths.

 

He was not dead. They had failed killed him.

 

Flare shot her a terrified glance and shook his head in defeat. They were trapped. They could not call for help; the nearest house was a twenty minute walk. Flare’s leg had been badly injured during the fight, and Seven’s ankle ached like it had been broken. Walking – or crawling – was out of the question. Hiding and praying for the man to bleed out was their only option. Though somehow, Seven knew that the man would never die; even if they had tried to kill him right there, on their kitchen floor, he would not have died. She had seen the necklace wrapped securely around his neck. She was sure that she had seen the symbol somewhere, and she knew it was connected to the fact that their predator would never perish.

 

Seven took her brother under his good arm and led him to the couch in the living room. She jumped when she heard the man moan behind them; it would not be long before he was up and ready for another fight.

  
Towels were wrapped around the siblings’ wounds; they did not want to bleed out or leave a blood trail that the stranger could follow. They closed several doors in the house and went over several plans in their heads before deciding on hiding in their parents’ room. They usually kept out of the room – too many memories – but both of them had decided that dying in a safe, familiar setting was what they both desired. If they were going to die, they wanted to die while engulfed in the sweet aroma that their parents had left behind.

 

Huddling together was how they bonded until they heard faint movements from the lower floor of the house. The stranger’s whisper carried itself up the stairs and to their ears,

****

“Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

 

 

Now, there they were, cowering in fear of a madman.

 

Horror was splattered across their faces like a gothic painting. Their breathing was fast and their eyes were watchful. It was not long before they heard a harsh bang against the bedroom door. Acting as quickly as they could, they sheltered themselves behind the countless dangling clothes. Seven wanted to believe that he would walk right by them, that he would be too dazed and disorganised to realize where they were. A voice in her head told her that she was a fool. The voice told her that he was not human. The voice warned her that there was some evil, merciless power he was using to locate them.

 

They heard his scythe barrel through the wood panelling of the bedroom door, and began to shake with expectation. Flare cursed under his breath and let a few more tears slide down his cheeks. Seven clutched her little brother’s hand tightly and pursed her lips. She knew that they were in a tight spot. She knew that they should have tried to escape, regardless of their wounds. The most reckless part of her mind told her that it was not too late for her to leap out of the open window and gallop to safety. The most rational part of her mind told her to stay put and pray for a quick death.

 

They had fought well, but in the end they would be murdered – just like their parents.

 

The door was broken down in no time. Seven found herself thinking the most absurd thought as she heard the door tumble against the carpet. _‘Why didn’t you just turn the doorknob?!’_

 

The murderer marched toward the middle of the room. They heard him tossing the bedsheets around. They heard him search every inch of the room except for the closet. Glass was shattered, furniture was ruined, and the carpet was splattered with his blood; he was so close to finding them.

 

During their last moment of solitude, Seven looked at her brother and mouthed sweet words to him. Flare’s eye mixed with her own and he wrapped a weak arm around his sister, ‘I love you too,’ he mouthed back.

 

The stranger moved closer to where they were, tearing open the closet door with his scythe. Seven watched as more light flooded into their safe haven. She watched as Flare closed his eyes. She watched as greedy hands tore away the clothes that kept them hidden. Then, all she saw was the man’s disgustingly handsome face leering down at them. His scythe glistened with fresh blood and his lavender eyes were sparkling with hatred. He was wearing a torn Akatsuki cloak.

“Found you."

His whisper was soft and dreadful, and his laugh was even worse. It was cruel and shrill, as if he found no better joy than killing two innocent villagers. He stood there and laughed at them for quite some time. Seven _almost_ thought she could sneak past him… _Almost_.

 

His mouth finally closed and his awful eyes locked with hers. He paid little attention to Flare, to which Seven was somewhat grateful. She kept her eyes locked with his, as he leaned a crimson red hand down to her injured arm and squeezed it, yanking her toward him. She screamed even louder than when he had first given her the wound. Her scream stemmed from both fear and agony; it made him laugh again.

 

With his scythe in one hand, Seven expected him to slice through her without much thought. Much to her chagrin, he decided to take a good look at her. _All_ of her.

 

He took in the shape of her long legs and matured hips. His eyes lingered on the curve of her backside before moving on to her curvaceous waist. His eyes took in the size of her breasts and she wanted to look away. Since she had been heading to sleep around the time he had intruded, she was not wearing a bra. Her nipples peaked over her tank top ever so slightly, making him grin with delight. He whispered something sexual to her, but she did not hear it. She was too dizzy, too close to passing out. She felt her body begin to sway and her injured ankle begin to ache. The stranger seemed to sense it too, for he tossed her behind him before she could nod off.

 

“Wh-Why are you…” Flare whimpered as the man moved closer, “…Why? We aren’t even… Enemies… I’ve never… never met you…” The man plucked him from his hiding spot and wrapped a bloody hand around his windpipe. Without squeezing, he staring into the younger boy’s eyes,

 

“Because He told me to.”

 

Seven struggled to pick herself up. Exhaustion washed over her like a wave of desert heat. She barely heard Flare calling to her. She barely heard the sound of metal intruding flesh. She only noticed what had happened when Flare’s face appeared beside hers, his bright blue eyes fading to a dull grey.

 

His mouth hung open and blood poured from his lips. There was a dark red hole at the top of his throat, shallow enough to allow him some air, but deep enough to kill him. It took Seven a moment to process what she was viewing. The less-than-sane part of her mind told her that she was dreaming, but she knew otherwise.

 

She flung herself up and away from her brother’s body, crawling back until her wounds screamed and her ankle gave out. She was unsure of what hurt more: her heart or the rest of her body. “Oh gods…” She whispered. “Oh Flare… Oh gods…”

 

The predator watched as she took in what had been done to her brother. He walked to where she was sitting and pulled her up by her neck, “Not ‘gods’,” he hissed, “only Jashin.” Seven’s eyes widened as she recognized the name.

 

Countless stories had wafted around her small village about the horrible deity called Jashin. She had heard from the village elders that a Jashinist temple was within her village’s radius; she wondered if that was where their predator had come from. Before she could even think to ask, she found her gaze wandering to her brother’s love lovelorn body.

 

The Jashinist watched as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. He truly cherished her expression. His favourite part of killing families was when the last surviving member gazed upon their loved ones’ bodies. He smirked and closed his hand around her throat. Her eyes jerked toward his. She found herself struggling to pass oxygen to her lungs, and gaped. He was going to kill her. She would join Flare on the ground, still alive and bleeding out, as he took in their emotions and watched them die. Her feet kicked at his legs and lower area, and her fingers clawed at his hand. He was too strong for her; she had known this all along.

 

The Akatsuki brought her face closer to his and closed the space between their lips. Seven gasped as his tongue slithered into her mouth and explored, nipping at her tongue hard enough to draw blood. Seven attempted to bite his invasive muscle, determined to die with dignity. She felt her air running out and knew that her bites were uncoordinated and clumsy. She could barely focus on him now; all she could think of was Flare and his expressionless eyes, his slow, sharp breathing, and the crimson hole through his throat.

 

The man pulled away from her bruised and bloody mouth, taking in how great she looked after his attack. He smirked as she began to close her eyes, “don’t worry, we’re not done yet,” he growled darkly.

 

Before she could completely lose consciousness, he tossed her onto the messy bed. Seven fumbled with the sheets as her body sprung about the mattress, all while taking enormous gulps of air. Her neck hurt and her lungs burned, but she thanked the high heavens that she was still alive. _‘Though, maybe not for long,’_ she thought grimly, her eyes wandering to Flare’s body, yet again. A pool of thick crimson blood had gathered around his head. His stomach was rising and falling slowly. He was still alive. Seven clawed herself to the very bottom of the bed and let herself fall from the edge, dragging a thin bedsheet along with her. She lifted her head to search for their attacker, certain he would do everything in his power to stop her from doing what she had to do.

 

She jumped when she heard him talking to himself in the hallway, just outside the bedroom door. When had he left the room? Who was he talking to? He appeared to be having a lengthy conversation with someone, yet she could sense no one else’s presence.

 

Shaking the curiosity from her clouded mind, she pulled the bedsheet to her brother’s neck and pushed him onto his back. He flinched only slightly when she pressed the sheet against his wound. Rising above him, she almost screamed when she felt her body groan in protest. Taking a few seconds to compose herself, she listened to the crazed man speaking to himself in the hallway. She prayed he would not find her like she was. He liked watching her suffer. If he saw her cradling her fading brother, he might simply kill the boy before her very eyes. It would be a quick death for Flare, but Seven knew that she would never forgive herself; she would damn herself to Hell seven times over if she had to watch him die.

 

She had to move quickly.

 

Seven ignored the pain that coursed through her body, and brought her mouth to her brother’s bloody lips. Lowering his jaw ever so slightly, she pressed her lips against his, passing air to his dying lungs. She was unsure if her method would work; the hole in his throat was large and left little room for air circulation. What he truly needed was a doctor. What he truly needed was to be out of their house and into the nearest hospital. His chance of survival was perilously slim.

 

She heard the mumbling in the hallway stop and felt her blood run cold. The little hope that she had toward resuscitating her brother was drained, and the power surge she had felt after being tossed onto the bed had diminished. Seven ceased her movements and watched the door. It was not long before two sandal-garbed feet strolled into her view.

 

The intruder stood there staring at her, his ice cold lavender eyes traced her body with immense lust. His tongue shot out of his mouth and trailed across his lips. Seven gulped.

 

They stared at each other for what felt like aeons. She took in his horribly handsome face as he took in her finely sculpted body. As if sizing each other up, neither wanted to be the first to look away. Seven felt a strange sort of fear waft through her. It did not feel like her end was near; it felt like her end was just beginning.

 

“Shit…” came his sinister whisper, “…is he still alive?” He stared down at her brother intently; this had been her biggest fear.

 

He watched her eyes change from calm, to nervous, to terrified. He knew what she was afraid of the most. He chuckled as if he had said something humorous, still glowering at Seven, “Seriously, what a pathetic piece of shit.”

 

He took a step closer to the pair and made to grab Flare. In a flash, Seven threw herself over her brother’s body. Waves of pain coursed through her as she felt one of her wounds start to bleed again. When the intruder’s hand finally reached her body, she dug her nails into her brother’s skin and held on for dear life. She felt his stomach rising and falling quickly, drawing in shallow breaths, as if he was inhaling a thick poison.

 

The Akatsuki member yanked her to her knees by her hair and tossed her aside. He turned to face her for a moment, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Wait your turn, woman,” he whispered, laughing cruelly as she scrambled to reach her brother.

 

“Wait!” She panted, crawling across the carpet, “Yo-You don’t want to kill him!” Her words made the man hesitate for an instant, giving Seven the chance to rope her arms around one of his legs, “I’m serious,” she said, feigning calmness, “you don’t want to kill him.”

 

He gazed down at her with a look of wonder in his brilliant lavender eyes. Seven knew that her choice of words had piqued his curiosity. He crouched down to get a better look at her face. Seven quickly released his leg, for fear that he would be put off balance and fall on top of her; she would not be much use to Flare if she was flattened. The stranger rubbed his chin, as if in deep thought. “I don’t want to kill him…?” he contemplated. Seven tried not to look at him.

 

He shook the girl roughly from his leg and grabbed her by the hair. Seven gritted her teeth as she was yanked to her knees. How many times had he grabbed her by her hair? How many precious strands had he ripped out of her aching scalp?

 

She averted her nervous eyes from his piercing ones. She knew that if she looked him in the eye, her resolve would crumble like a long, forgotten ruin. He shook her to seize her attention, and spoke bitterly, “Why don’t I want to kill him, huh? Do I look like an idiot?! I came here to sacrifice both of you! Never in my fucking life have I spared a sacrifice. Lord Jashin would smite me if I let either of you live.” Spit flew into her face from the intensity of his words. She had made him angry.

 

Forcing herself to remain calm, she geared her eyes toward his mouth and responded steadily, “No, I don’t think you’re stupid. In fact, I think you’re quite intelligent.” This was a lie, of course. She had a feeling that he was stronger rather than smarter, “to have searched us out and defeated us… I’m not particularly strong, but my brother has been said to have the battle strength of a well-trained chunin.”

 

Both their eyes wandered to where Flare was. More blood had spread around his body. Seven knew that her time was running out.

 

The man laughed heartily at her choice of words. It pleased him that she thought he was intelligent; most of his comrades took every chance they could to insult his problem-solving skills. He licked his lips and fixed his eyes on her swollen chest. She was even more delicious now that she had acknowledged how strong he was, “Keep talking, woman,” he muttered, “Keep talking before I decide to take you right here.”

 

Seven felt her mouth run dry. Had she aroused him simply by stroking his ego? She paused before continuing her persuasion, “Even though I know you’re strong, I think sparing my brother would be best for both of us… more so for you.” The man raised a brow at her words, appearing almost upset that she had insinuated he might have a weakness. She nodded to reiterate her point, “If you kill him, they will all come for you. They will be here in mere seconds. They will be here before you can sense their chakra.”

 

With that, the Akatsuki member threw her across the room, casting her further away from Flare. How many times had he thrown her away like garbage? How many _more_ times would he throw her away like garbage? Seven’s eyes widened as she hit the floor, her wounds screaming for mercy. In a flash, the man was on top of her, peeling off her tank top and pulling down her shorts. The poor girls’ eyes darted back and forth between her brother and the vile man atop her. There was a cruel, animalistic glint in his eyes, one that she was all too familiar with.

 

He wanted her and he was going to take her. It did not matter if she wanted him to stop. It did not matter that she had been trying to speak. She was still a woman and he was still a man; nothing else mattered.

 

Seven struggled to push him away from her, but he would not budge. She flailed her arms hard enough to smack him in the face a few times, but he kept going. Soon, she was down to nothing but her underwear. He snickered at the look of mortification on her face as she wriggled violently beneath him. “You took too long, woman,” he said, biting down hard on her neck to halt her fit, “I told you to keep talking, didn’t I? Fuck, you turn me on… the way you talk about my power over you… You know I can do whatever I want to your body.”

 

He cut away her panties and released his manhood from his trousers. She saw how hard he was for her. She saw and she panicked. His moods were so unbelievably impulsive and sporadic. One minute she had been successfully persuading him, and the next he was violating her. He was a power hog; he enjoyed when women admitted that they were weaker than him. He liked being thought of as almighty and undefeatable. Perhaps that was why he had stopped her from talking; she had been speaking of his defeat. Getting defeated did not arouse him, and it certainly did not rub his oversized ego.

 

“You fucking asshole…” She snarled, trying to shake him away from her neck. One of his hands grabbed her bare breast and squeezed it violently, making her yelp. He dug his nails into her nipple and twisted it to make her cry out. The gesture only proved to make her womanhood pulse with want, but she quickly shut her lustful thoughts down. She would not give into the insane Jashinist. She wanted _anything_ but sex from him.

 

He rose his mouth from her neck and hovered over her lips, using his hands to prop himself above her, “it’s Hidan,” he stated solely, “Hidan of the Akatsuki. Not ‘fucking asshole’.” He winked at her and continued to assault her neck.

 

Seven’s mind was racing like a wild horse. She no longer cared who he was or what organization he belonged to. All she cared about was _getting him_ _off_. She felt him rub the tip of himself against her entrance and bit back angry tears.

 

He was going to rape her.

 

She had to think of something.

 

She had to think of something.

 

She _had to think of something_.

 

In a fit of pure, mindless desperation, she shouted, “They’re here!” He geared the tip of his penis into her womanhood. Seven felt him start to fill her aching, defiled pussy. When he was almost halfway inside of her, she tried again herself, “They’re here, and they’re coming for you!”

 

He stopped almost reluctantly, searching her face for a shred of deceit, “What the hell are you saying?” She resisted the urge to laugh hysterically at her luck. She had managed to make him stop when he was so close to taking her.

 

She took a deep breath, “A special force from Konoha…” she whispered, “They’re able to track down Flare, wherever he might be. They can sense when he is in danger… or when he is dying. They have been training him for months. They think he’s a prodigy. They placed a chakra tracking device into his blood.”

 

Hidan’s deadly lavender eyes widened in panic. He did not move. He did not say a word. He only looked at her, eyes filled with contempt. He did not believe that she was lying.

 

It was a complete bluff. Konoha had sent a Jonin to help train a few aspiring students in their small village. Upon their success, they would serve as ninja in Konoha. Flare had been the best student, learning things as quickly as they were taught. Though they cared deeply for his achievement, there was no tracking device on him.

 

But the pure possibility that she could be telling the truth had stopped him.

 

Now was her chance to turn the tables.

 

Finding the strength to ignore her pain and frailty, she slammed her elbow into his inner elbow as hard as she could, making his upper body buckle. Having the advantage, she latched her arm onto his back and rose her leg to the backs of his knees. Even when her ankle and shoulder screeched for her to stop, she went on. When she was in the correct position, she pushed against him as hard as she could. Hidan flailed as she shoved him to his side and slipped her body from his grasp.

 

He had not expected her to know anything about taijutsu. Where had she learned that? He snarled as she got to her feet as quickly as she could and limped toward the door. Once again, his eyes widened. He had expected her to run for her dear dying little brother. Was she actually abandoning him?

 

“ _FUCK_!” He shrieked, his voice loud enough to quake the entire house. She had made him out to be a fool, but he would show her; she would not escape the house alive.

 

He hopped to his feet and chased after her, pausing to look at the brother she had left behind, “I’ll be back for you,” he murmured, “If you don’t die before I get back. I’m going to take my time with that little whore…” As the crazed Jashinist fled from the room, Flare lolled his near-dead eyes toward the door.

 

There was no one left.

 

He was all alone.

 

Carefully, he lifted his arm and dipped two of his fingers in his own blood. On the ground above his head, he stretched to scrape his bloody fingers against a dry part of the carpet. He knew that the chance of him surviving was slim. He knew that Seven was trying to buy him time so that he could perform their parents’ healing technique. He resisted the urge to smirk; she was always looking out for him.

 

When Seven had first come across the technique in one of their mothers’ old books, Flare had scoffed. He had said that it would never work; it was old and unfinished. He had claimed that the greatest healer in their land was the legendary Sanin, Tsunade. Their parents could not have _possibly_ surpassed a Sanin.

 

Seven had tried it on his leg when it was sliced open during training. The gash had been huge and he had lost a great amount of blood. It had taken about ten minutes, but once the symbol was drawn and the healing light had faded, nothing remained of his gash. There was no scar and no pain, no severed nerves or tendons. Her parents had discovered something amazing, something that not even the great healers of Konoha knew.

 

By using only a small amount of chakra, one could draw a small healing circle nearby. The healing circle acted like an alchemic circle. It would take some of the user’s chakra in exchange for the mending of a specific wound. As if it had a mind of its own, the power would envelope the injured person’s body and find the worst wound. From there, the person’s body would be healed so well, that not even an ugly scar would remain. This had been what their parents were researching when they were murdered; this had been the bane of their life’s work.

 

But would the technique work on his neck wound?

 

Flare was unsure. He was only receiving a quarter of the air he usually inhaled, and he would lose even more as time went by. Soon, he would be dead. He would leave his dear older sister behind to fend for herself. The man – _Hidan_ – would rape and murder her for his sick God. But if he was able-bodied enough to retrieve the Jonin from the village…

 

He had to _try_.

 

He drew the symbol and felt his warm chakra envelope him. The technique took a few moments to pin-point his worst wound, but he forced himself to relax. A sharp pain radiated through his body as his neck wound started to heal, and he had to grind his teeth together to stop himself from screaming.

 

It _had_ to work.

* * *

 

Seven veered down the stairs and tumbled at the last step; her ankle had decided to finally give out on her. She cursed at her weak, tired body, and cradled her ankle in her hands.

 

Hidan had been close behind her, slamming into the wall as he swung around the corner and down the stairs. When she tried to get to her knees and crawl toward the exit, he grabbed a wad of her messy brown hair and yanked her back. She stumbled into him and smacked her injured arm into the wall. Howling in pain, the Akatsuki member took the chance to give her a firm kick in the stomach. “Worthless fucking _bitch_!” He screamed, in a fit of rage.

 

For the umpteenth time that night, Seven hit the ground hard. She gazed up at her captor, who was panting with sweaty, dishevelled hair, and looked at his wrath-filled eyes. She had managed to escape and buy time for Flare, hoping that he was still conscious enough to perform the healing technique. Now, what would happen to her?

 

Hidan stalked over to her and kicked her in the stomach again. She toppled across the room and landed closer to the front door. Instead of reeling in pain, she got to her knees and fiddled with the door’s lock. If she could escape from the house, she could escape into the forest and hide until she found her strength. She and Flare knew the forest surrounding their house well enough to navigate through it in a hurry; as children, they had played several games of hide-and-seek in the wooded paradise. Ironic, considering their current situation.

 

She was incredibly surprised when the door flung open in her hands. A rough wind gusted through the treetops, the tell-tale sign of a storm brewing.

 

Was she going to make it?

 

Before she could lunge out of the doorway, her body was caught in strong arms. She opened her mouth to scream for help, all other options exhausted, but a firm hand muffled her screams. Hidan slammed the door shut, almost breaking it off its hinges in the process.

 

He carried her into the living room and tossed her onto the couch. Though she was thoroughly spent, Seven would _not_ let him on top of her again. She moved her feet in front of herself and waited for the chance to push him aside. “Now you’re just being fucking stupid,” He laughed, tossing her unstable legs to the side. “We both know that I’m strong enough to do what I want to you.”

 

Hidan’s fist connected with her upper arm injury a little too fast for her to realize. She looked up at him with shocked, fearful eyes, crying bloody murder. He was difficult to handle. His movements were quick and sporadic; she did not know what he would do next. First, he insisted that he wanted to have sex with her. Then, as if something in his mind had snapped, he wanted to cause her pain.  _‘What in the hell is wrong with you!?’_ She wanted to scream. She could not fathom a man who would want to hurt a woman as much as the Jashinist before her did.

 

As if reading her mind, he grinned, “I think I’ll slice you up a bit, at least until you start to look remotely desirable.”

 

Seven pursed her lips and shut her eyes. What good would screaming do? Their house was practically isolated from the rest of the village, and any trained ninja were far from earshot. There was nothing more to do.

 

She could only sit there and suffer.

 

Hidan raised his open hand high and prepared to bring it down on her face. His heart was a whirlwind of excitement. For all the trouble this girl had caused him, she deserved to be punished. She had made him out to be a fool, but the tables had turned; she was the fool for underestimating him. She should have been aware that Lord Jashin was always on his side. She should have been aware that she was doomed from the start.

 

He brought his hand down hard on her face, his foot extending to jab her in the stomach. She gasped as the wind was dragged from her lungs. Her whole body pleaded for him to stop, yet she could not bear to beg. Men like Hidan relished in the sounds of women begging for him to stop; it made him feel powerful, _immortal_. He would not stop, even if she got to her knees and pleaded. Begging would be a waste of time she no longer had.

 

A sudden bang was heard from the upper floor of the house. Hidan stopped his assault instantaneously and cast his gaze toward the staircase. It sounded as though someone had fallen. It sounded as though Flare was on his way.

 

Seven could only hope that her brother had managed to heal himself.

 

Hidan took a moment to assess what he had just heard. He wondered if it was possible that the boy was alive. He doubted it, especially since part of his throat was destroyed. Still, he could not help but feel…

 

…Like he should finish the boy for good.

 

There was something within him, coaxing him to sacrifice him before the girl; as if Lord Jashin was telling him that the boy would prove to be a problem. He cursed himself for being led to this family. They were insistent on surviving and saving each other, and they displayed their vigour with trickery and brute strength. Hidan had killed various skilled ninja in the past. He had taken on members of Konoha’s Anbu, arising almost unscathed from the battle. He had even proved to be a difficult victory for his partner, Kakuzu. He was strong, yet he could not handle two teenage civilians; this thought made him absolutely furious.

 

He moved away from the skittish Seven and turned to wander up the stairs. She knew what he was planning, and she could not allow him to do it. She stumbled off of the couch and fell toward him. Using what little strength she had left to crawl after him, “Wait! _No_!”

 

He did not stop. She would not stop him like she had the last time. She had no more tricks. She had no more skills. She had no more strength. Latching onto his leg, she displayed her last bit of resolve.

 

“Leave him be!” She spat, “ _Don’t_!”

 

“Didn’t I tell you? I came here to sacrifice you both, woman.” He countered, kicking at her.

 

“I’ll do whatever you want! _Really_!”

 

“I’ll do what I want with you, anyways!” He cackled cruelly, successfully unlatching her from his leg.

 

“I can teach you powerful medical incantations and symbols! My parents were the famous Toho duo!” She prayed that he had an interest in healing.

 

“Don’t need any of that shit. I’m immortal. Anything bandages won’t fix, Lord Jashin will.”

 

She racked her mind for any other propositions she could make, “How about I give myself to you?” She bit her tongue and grimaced, “willingly, I mean… For as long as you want…”

 

He laughed at that, turning around to wink at her, “Do you really think it matters to me if you’re unwilling?”

 

“I’ll… hmm… Well…” She was running out of options. There were only a few more left, none of them favourable, “…How about…”

 

At that moment, they heard the sound of a window sliding open.

 

Flare was alive.

 

Flare was alive and trying to escape.

 

Seven wanted to cry, but knew that their battle was not finished yet. She would have time to cry another day, if she escaped alive.

 

The important thing was that Flare was going to leave the house alive. He would leave and retrieve help. Until he returned, Seven vowed that she would fight to stay alive. A small, silly grin spread itself across her lips. Hope was returning to her shattered mind.

 

Hidan’s eyes were filled with bloodlust. When he caught the boy, he would kill him. And he _would_ catch him; of this, he was sure of. With his injuries, the boy would be lucky to survive mere minutes alone in the forest. He smirked and turned to look at Seven, “He won’t get far with his wound...”

 

Still, his Lord was telling him that he had better kill the boy. There was something about him… Something about this family…

 

He shook Seven from his leg with ease and raced to the top of the stairs. He would not waste any more time with the woman’s pleas. When he was done with the boy, he would ravage her until he was satisfied. Then, he would send her to his God, and she would serve Him how she served all men – with her body.

 

Seven felt tears roll down her cheeks and moaned in frustration. Her burning desire to protect her dear little brother was strong, but her physical strength rendered her useless. Had she the strength, she would have tackled him down the stairs and held him there.

 

She only had her words, now, and they were about as cold, heartless, and empty as he was. They _had_ to be.

 

There was only one thing left for her to say. She could think of nothing else that would appeal to the madman. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves,

 

“I-I’ll… be yours... Forever! For as long as you live!” She cried, the tears making her vision blurry and her cheeks rosy, “I’ll do whatever you want, every day of my life… I’ll help you worship Jash… Er… Um…  _Lord_ Jashin… and do anything you ask of me.  _Anything_. I-I-I’ll be at y-your disposal.”

 

She had no idea what she was signing up for.

 

That made him stop dead in his tracks. Suddenly, any thoughts of killing Flare dissipated, only to be replaced with ones of Seven worshipping him. He imagined her sweet little body under him, squirming as he sliced her up and stuffed her full of his manhood. And had she said that she would help him serve his Lord? Forever? He turned his head to eye her, violet eyes wide with wonder.

 

He needed to hear her say it again. He could not believe his ears,

 

“What you just said… Say it again.”

 

Seven gulped, but wasted no time repeating herself, “I said that I’d be yours…” she mumbled, horrified at what she had just promised him, “I’ll help you serve your… Um… God… and do whatever you ask… Anything…”

 

Hidan perked up. He ran over her words in his head and snickered malevolently. Her desire to live and let her little brother escape were so extreme, that she would devote her entire, pitiful life to him.

 

It was very tempting, and he was the type of man to give into his temptations.

 

He closed his eyes and called to his almighty deity. He needed some guidance. He did not know what his Lord wanted him to do.

 

_‘Lord Jashin,’_ he thought carefully. He was sure that his Lord had been watching him torture the siblings. After all, it had been Him who told Hidan to break into their house. Though it seemed like a random house with regular villagers within, the immortal knew that his God was as omniscient as he was omnipotent. Perhaps Jashin had planned for this to happen. Perhaps Jashin had known that the girl would do this. A grin began to form on his face,  _‘Lord Jashin, I need your guidance.’_

Seven sat there as the crazed Akatsuki member closed his eyes. She knew that he was considering her proposition. She also knew that Flare had managed to escape due to her distraction. She prayed that he had been able to heal himself enough as to not bleed out. He would get help from the other ninja-in-training and the Jonin instructor. He would gather them and bring them to her. Surely a Jonin would have the strength to take on an S-ranked criminal.  _‘But he’s more than just an Akatsuki member,’_ she thought morosely,  _‘he’s a Jashinist, too.’_

 

From what she had heard, ninja and villagers alike stayed away from Jashinists. They were far from sane, unpredictable, and more dangerous than any other cult. Most of them could not be killed, yet most of them could kill others. No one knew the mechanics of the religion or its followers. The only thing that everyone knew, was that anything but total eradication was a sin.

 

Seven felt her breath hitch at that realization. It was against his religion to leave her alive after he had targeted her. It was against his God’s will to let her live.

 

She turned to the front door and slowly made her way toward it. Escaping would be best if he was busy thinking, unaware of her actions. She had no intention of fulfilling her promise to him. When he finally opened his eyes, he would either catch her or find her gone. She was finally starting to realize that there was no way out of this; he was going to kill her if he caught her, no matter what. Her promises meant nothing; only utter destruction meant something to a Jashinist.

 

“What she says is true,” Jashin whispered to Hidan, “the girl will be yours to do with as you please. I have but one condition.” Hidan felt his excitement grow. It had been a long time since his God had given him a plaything.

 

“What is it, my Lord?” he mumbled aloud.

 

Seven jumped when she heard him speak. She whipped her head around to see him standing on the stairs, eyes closed, with a sick grin on his elegant face. There, in the dimness of the upstairs lamp, he looked like he was insane. He had just spoken to someone who was not present. He had not been speaking to her; he probably did not even realize that she had moved. He was distracted.

 

He was talking to his God.

 

“You must not kill her. She must not be killed until I wish for her to be sacrificed,” Jashin hissed to his follower, “She is useful to me. She will be useful to you, too. Do not forget this.” It was at that moment when Hidan finally understood why he had been sent to the siblings’ house. Jashin had known the outcome of his intrusion; He had known what Seven would propose. “Thank you, Lord Jashin!” Hidan exclaimed.

 

He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the wall. His thoughts were rapid and uncoordinated. He was eager. He could hardly wait to take her from her home and have his way with her ten times over. He would make her suffer for her sinful existence; he would make her _pay_.

 

He spun around to where he had last seen the girl, only to find that she had vanished. She had left behind only a small trail of blood.

 

The front door rattled faintly against its hinges. Lightning scattered across the sky in the distance; there was a storm coming.


	2. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven races through the forest with Hidan hot on her tail. She spots an old cave up ahead and decides to lose him in there. Meanwhile, Flare recruits the help of his sensei, Shikaku, and his comrade, Chouza, to help him take down the mighty immortal Akatsuki member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.  
> Please read: Hello there! This is the second revised chapter. What do you guys think? Yet again, please review. I’d love to know your opinions of the new plot, character developments, and quality of the story. Reviews give me the motivation I need to continue writing! :)
> 
> WARNING: Violence, dark themes, and mentions of non-consent.

 

Chapter Two: Take Care

            Seven tumbled onto the forest floor for the third time since her escape. Her ankle had been merciless and unforgiving, but she had no time to heal it; she was sore, naked, wet, and utterly desperate.

Blood gushed from her shoulder. _Not_ good. At some point during the night, she must have reopened her wound. More blood loss meant a higher chance of passing out, and a higher chance of passing out meant a higher chance of seeing Hidan’s unsettling grin as she died. She grimaced at the thought of the immortal man’s devilishly handsome face slithering into her line of vision. She knew that he would have loved to deliver the finishing blow back at her house – after he had raped and humiliated her, of course.

He was the most dangerous and threatening man that she had ever had the misfortune of meeting. He was ruthless and thorough with his kills, he was sick and disturbing with his women, he was-

Seven stopped when she felt her body begin to heat up; becoming flustered at the mere thought of his gruesome nature would only slow her down. She had to focus on getting away. She had to focus on getting up. She had to focus on _better_ things. She could hear him lurking somewhere behind her, closer than she thought he was. The man was full of vile, gruesome surprises; his uncanny ability of always managing to catch up to her, was only one of many.

Getting to her knees, she took a moment to stare at the clouded sky. It had been raining since she first entered the forest. Lightning had lit up the dark night sky a few times, making it easier to avoid the tree roots and rocks scattered about. Thunder grumbled like a malevolent god in the distance, chilling her damp, clammy skin.

A storm had arrived at her small village – a very large storm.

She had to keep moving.

She got to her feet and hissed as a sharp pain shot through the left side of her body. She had barely given her wounds a chance to rest; if she was not being tossed across the room, she was running for her life. He had not given her a break. He had been relentless, forcing her to be just as relentless on her aching body. As long as she could still run, walk, limp, or crawl, she would continue to move.

He would not catch her, as long as she could still _move_.

Seven veered toward the east, ditching the grass-laden trail that hikers often followed. Her chances of losing the Jashinist psychopath would grow if she moved off of the slippery, muddy path.

She could hear his war cries echoing across the treetops, eerily close behind her. It had not taken him long to realize that she had slinked away while he was occupied. Sure enough, as soon as she had managed to limp into the comfort of the forest, he had flown out of her house and followed her clumsy footprints. Jashin gave him the malefic clairvoyance he needed to dispose of her. Even if he could not see her, he knew where she was. He could follow her to the ends of the Earth, regardless of the trail she left behind.

Seven shivered violently as she ran, more from terror than the harsh climate; he was a nightmare in every way possible, and his God was even worse.

There was no escaping such a brutal, vindictive evil.

But she had to try.

She panted as she swerved through the bushes and between a set of trees. She was starting to wheeze, her heart pounding painfully against her ribcage. Her stamina was about to hit rock bottom, “I’m going to die,” she panted, “either from heart failure or a scythe wound.”

She stopped and leaned against an old, thick tree. The air was dense and humid, and the rain was gushing from the sky violently. It was impossible to run for a long period of time in such rotten weather, but she was still upset with herself for resting. She had taken too long to get up after her last clumsy fall; she had no time to be standing around. He would find her in no time, and when he did…

“Oh my dear God…” she muttered, placing her shaky hand against her breast, “I can’t keep this up for long… I can’t-“

Even nearer than before, she heard the insane Jashinist, laughing to high hell, “Your ass is mine, bitch! I’m going to fucking _skin_ you!”

He was far too close to her, now.

She knew that she should not have stopped, and she cursed her body for constantly giving out on her.

At the rate that he was running, he would reach her location in a matter of minutes. If she dove into the bushes, he would find her. If she climbed into a long, leafy tree, he would climb up after her. If she took off toward her safe, little village, he would grab her and snap her neck before she could even scream.

Sweat and rain poured down her face. She was so frustrated that she wanted to cry. She had no plan. She had no power. She had _nothing_. She was sitting duck for him and his omniscient God. When the time came for him to carve his scythe into her skin, she would only be able to look up at him with broken, pleading eyes. He would do as he pleased with her before ridding the world of her being.

A few stray tears slid down her pale cheeks at the thought of her upcoming torture, _‘Why us?! Why the hell did it have to be us…?’_

The poor woman was jolted from her sorrowful thoughts when she heard bushes moving nearby. She placed a careful hand against her quivering lips. She could sense no one nearby, and could see no movement beyond the shrubbery. An animal, perhaps, trying to find shelter during the storm.

_‘But you_ know _that wasn’t an animal.’_ Her mind warned her. _‘Start running, and you might get a little bit further before you feel his hand around your throat.’_

Stepping away from the old tree, she looked behind her and gazed at the bare blackness of the forest. Had it always been that dark behind her? She looked to the sky for her answer. Thunder rumbled sternly in the distance.

No.

Something was coming.

Something was coming, and it was as wicked and terrible as the sinister raincloud that hovered over her village.

She did not contemplate it.

She gathered her courage – her one prized belonging that still remained intact – and fled.

* * *

 

He saw her run deeper into the forest and cursed.

He had watched her come to a stop by the tall, old tree.

He had seen her consider her chances of survival. Did she really believe that she could escape him? Did she truly believe that he had not caught up to her yet?

Laughter erupted from his throat as he continued his pursuit.

She was weak and slow, but very, very calculative. Even as she escaped from him, the gears in her mind were turning with haste.

His plan had been to sneak up behind her as she rested, thinking that she was safe from his clutches, masking his movements with the pitter-patter of the rain. He had gotten too caught up in his thoughts when he waded through a particularly _large_ and _loud_ bush, but who could have blamed him? His thoughts centred on what she had promised him, and the look on her cute little face when he would drag her off to fulfill the rest of the bargain.

Hidan had hit the jackpot with her; Jashin had allowed him his spoils, and he would be certain to take them.

Like a startled, helpless animal, she had galloped away upon hearing his careless rustling. He had to admit, her ears were sharp. The only useful thing about her was that she had fine-tuned her senses to notice almost anything around her. She knew that she could not fight him, so she did not try to. Fleeing was her only option; she was lucky that he had the slowest and most impulsive attacks out of all the Akatsuki members.

He smirked as he heard her grunting through the forest. He knew that she was terrified of him, and wanted to put as much distance between them as possible, _‘but is she terrified of what I’m going to do to her, or is she terrified of how I’ll make her feel when I’m on top of her?’_

He chuckled darkly at this thought. Many women enjoyed what he did to their bodies before he sacrificed them. Their mouths screamed at him to stop, but the endless river of wetness dripping from their sensitive holes told him that they did not really mean it; part of them _wanted_ to be ravished. Seven would no doubt prove to be the same. She had reacted violently to him when he had pushed into her womanhood; her eyes had been frantic, searching for something she could do to get him away. Oh yes, he would enjoy breaking her down and having her at his disposal. She would make an excellent trophy for him to keep in his bedroom.

He licked his lips when he realized that she was starting to slow down. Was she becoming too exhausted to run? His mind wandered to how her body would feel pressed against his on the cold, forest floor. “You’re mine, bitch,” he mumbled sadistically, “and I’m going to enjoy you…”

Up ahead, his gaze settled on the dark entrance of a half-submerged cave.

So, she was planning to run into the cave to escape, was she?

How cute.

He watched as she disappeared through the small opening of the structure, struggling to remain on her feet. Her energy was almost completely depleted, but she clung onto the idea that she could hide from him. Perhaps she thought that if she could not run, she could hide.

The immortal snorted as he reached the small hole that led to her false hopes. It was narrow, wet, and almost impossible for him to fit into. She had been able to pass through due to her small stature, but his muscular form had a difficult time shimmying through the gap, scythe and all.

It was eerie inside of the cave. The rain splattered roughly against the outer walls, sounding like a hundred gunshots in the distance. The thunder echoed loudly throughout the large space, and it was only when a quick lightning bolt lit up the path, did he know where he had to go. He knelt to the ground and dipped his fingers into a small pool of her blood. She was bleeding profusely. It was a wonder that she had managed to stay conscious, let alone run away.

Hidan rose to his feet and scanned the darkness, as if he could see well enough to find her. The cave was large and deep, his panting echoing loudly against its many walls. He shoved a hand through his messy silver locks, pushing them away from his face.

She had run toward the small entrance with determination, as if she had recognized it. If that was the case, then she had the advantage; he was playing on her terrain.

Taking a few steps forward, the Jashinist felt himself smirk. He had always loved a perfidious game of hide-and-seek.

Shuffling through his cloak for matches, he began to think of a plan. He would leave no crevice left unsearched. Judging by the structure of the cavern, the only way that she would be able to escape would be if she were to sneak around him. Unfortunately for her, he would never allow that to happen.

“Seven…” he whispered playfully, letting her name slither off his tongue, “…Get your ass out here, or I’ll have to start playing rough…”

He laughed sadistically at his own, vile joke.

In her hiding place, Seven heard his whisper carry along the walls of her safe place. The way he said her name made her teeth chatter. He had no right to utter it, or act as if she belonged to him. At the back of her mind, she considered that he might have taken her up on the offer she had made, back at the house. _‘Maybe that’s why he’s acting like this. Maybe he’s hell-bent on capturing me so that I can fulfill all of his evil wishes. He_ did _leave Flare alive…’_ Thinking of the deal made her shiver. Had he earnestly considered her proposal? She knew that Jashinism only had one commandment: To bring absolute destruction unto all things encountered. Had his God given him permission to retrieve her and use her as he pleased?

_‘That brings up another issue…’_ She pondered, seriously, _‘Is Jashin real? At first, I thought that he was just hearing voices. I thought he had schizophrenia. I thought that there was no way a deity like Jashin could exist, but…’_ Seven felt her heartbeat quicken with her sudden insight, _‘…there can’t be an entire cult of schizophrenics. I’ve heard stories of others’ encounters with Jashinists. They all talked about receiving orders from their God. They all spoke about Jashin as if he was an actual-‘_ She stopped herself there, finally understanding that she was in far more trouble than she had first believed.

Jashin could not be real… could he?

She knew that Hidan had some type of dark clairvoyance; how else could he have found her in the dark forest? There were some ninja who had superior night vision, or powers that allowed them to track their targets. _‘He’s not a sensor type, though. I can tell. He isn’t trying to sniff out my scent, he isn’t looking at random objects for my hand or footprints, and he doesn’t appear to have any sort of ocular ability,’_ the girl was getting more and more nervous, as she exhausted all of her rational options, _‘If he had some acute hearing jutsu, he would have leapt for me when I made my escape from the house. Telepathy isn’t an option either, or else he would have found me by now. He would probably also know a little more about Flare and I. I bluffed about the people coming because Flare was in danger, but there was a moment where he actually believed me. If he could read my mind… No, no, no. There’s a higher power at work here. Nothing else makes sense.’_

While her mind was scaring her into bloody oblivion, she placed her hand onto the hilt of an old, rusty kunai that she had found on the cave floor. Some ninja had been training, and left it behind carelessly. Though he had not thought of his kunai as important, Seven had beamed at the aspect of using the tool for self-defence. She was no ninja – she had _never_ been trained to handle sharp objects – but she refused to be manhandled by him, again. This time, she would be able to put up a better fight. He was much larger than her, and had plenty of experience to best her in a duel, but a quick jab to the gut with the kunai, and he would cease to underestimate her. Then, when he dropped to his knees in pain, she would make her escape.

Choosing to hide in the cave had been a last minute decision. She believed that she would be able to sneak past him in the vast darkness, but she would have to be stealthy. She would be unable to draw any sort of attention to herself, lest she want his scythe to penetrate her body. However, now that she had a small weapon, she had more options. She could wait for him to find her, or make a run for it when he turned his back on her.

The only thing left to consider was which option _he_ would choose.

As soon as Hidan lit the tiny match, he understood how carefully he would have to inspect the cave. From wall to wall, there were gaps. Some led to other passages, and others were nothing more than petite hiding places; the setting was _perfect_ for a game of killing.

He looked down at the blood trail and followed it with his eyes. Much to his chagrin, it ended only inches away from where he was standing. Furthermore, her wet footprints ended not far away from the blood trail, as if she had taken the time to dry her feet beforehand.

She had been smart enough to clean up after herself.

When had she found the time to do that? He had been right on her heels… She was not like his other sacrifices at all. She was quick, cunning, and slippery.

She liked to run, and oh, how he loved to chase.

“Ah, shit…” he mumbled sorely, a smirk remaining on his lips, “…I can’t _wait_ to find you, sweetheart.”

Seven grimaced at the strange pet name. Her hand jittered, wanting nothing more than to aim the old kunai at his head.

Hidan took a few more steps into the cave, holding the small match far away from his body. The bulge in his pants was growing substantially from the mere thought of her. The fear was radiating off of her in waves, and he found it absolutely _delicious_. Though the ground was slimy with rain and moss, he had no problem with fucking her right where he stood. He wanted to grab a fistful of her hair and rip her head from the ground. He wanted to yank on her nipples as he plunged into her aching womanhood, and he wanted to slide his tongue past her protesting lips.

He needed to find her to relieve himself soon. His steamy thoughts were beginning to cloud his navigation skills.

He knew that she could be hiding in any one of the gaps that were shrouded by darkness. If he chose to check the gaps that led to other passages first, she would take the opportunity to run past him. If he buried his head too far into a dark hole, she would creep from her hiding place and catch him off-guard. Other criminals might have feared being apprehended by their victim, but he found himself growing even more excited from their deadly little game.

Pulling his scythe from his back, he licked his lips hungrily. Closing his greedy, lavender eyes, he positioned himself in the middle of the pathway. If she tried to sneak past him while he was conversing with Lord Jashin, her pretty little neck would be in his hands in less than a second. He grinned at the thought of her pained expression, _‘Lord Jashin, guide me to the woman. I can’t find her without your guidance.’_

Seven watched him from her dark little opening, and froze when he ripped his scythe from his back. Was he planning to kill her – _sacrifice her_ – to his vicious God, after all? She nibbled on her lower lip nervously, watched as he closed his eyes. She knew by now that he was talking with his divine destructor; whenever he closed his eyes and looked as though he was in a deep trance, he was communicating with the unseen. In a matter of moments, he would open his eyes and look directly at her. In mere seconds, she would be discovered.

She slid her body as far back as it would go and slowed her ragged breathing. She held her injured shoulder in a painful death-grip, determined to stop the bleeding. She cursed herself for letting him tear off her clothes; she might have been able to use the fabric as a tourniquet. With her wounds taken care of, she could have geared more of her focus toward the half-naked psychopath and his beloved scythe.

She rolled her eyes at how ridiculous her situation sounded, _‘Man… I feel like I’m the main character of a ridiculous novel.’_ She mused disdainfully, shaking her head at the absurd thought.

Seven shivered from the cool cave air, and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. Her damp hair dangled loosely down her naked back and breasts, turning her shivering into something worse. If she got away from the mad Jashinist with her life, she would surely have pneumonia, but she supposed that being sick was better than being dead.

At that moment, Hidan’s eyes opened wide, and an almost enlightened look dawned across his masculine face. Much to her surprise, his head darted to the passage just across from her. Her lower lip quivered with anticipation as he knelt down to explore it, wedging half of his upper body into the moist gap.

She was confused.

Had his God led him into falsehood? Was his clairvoyance not always exact? Was he trying to lure her out by turning his back on her real hiding place? Seven pondered the man’s peculiar actions, searching for an answer. She wanted to move, but forbade herself. If she did not have a plan to escape Hidan’s devious clutches – whether his back was turned or not – then she would not move; that was what she had promised herself. Still, she struggled to formulate a strategy. Gripping her kunai tightly, she gulped.

What else could she do but make a mad dash for the exit?

All of her other options had been exhausted.

Hidan pretended to take a long look into the dark opening, holding his small light into the abyss. The passage led to another room entirely, but he did not let his curiosity trigger an exploration; he was far more interested in his little plaything, thinking that she could hide from his all-knowing God. He knew exactly where she was, and sooner or later, she would emerge from her hiding space. Lord Jashin never led him astray. He would catch his little toy and drag her out of the cave, barely breathing.

He tried not to giggle upon hearing her emerge from behind him, doing just as he had predicted. She was trying to be wise and devious, making as little sound as possible, but she could not mask her sound from a trained ninja. He could hear her, clear as day.

When he heard the gentle padding of her feet against the cave floor, he tore himself away from the passage and turned toward the entrance of the cave. “Found y-“ His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the empty entryway, droplets of rain pouring heavily through the narrow crack.

She was nowhere to be found, yet he was _sure_ he had heard her. For her to run further into the cave made little sense. Did she still fail to understand that he would capture her no matter what? Did she forget that running deeper into the cavern – far too deep for anyone to find her – was a horrible, horrible idea?

Whipping around, he caught the bottom half of her naked body dashing deeper into the darkness. He took a few seconds to register what had happened before barrelling after her, fury in his eyes. He had not expected her to run _away_ from the exit. Her actions were both frustrating and confusing, causing his anger to spike, _‘It doesn’t make sense,’_ he thought with pure abhorrence, _‘what the fuck is she doing!?’_

With a cry of vehemence, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, not caring that his match had been discarded metres ago. Darkness enveloped him, leaving him vulnerable to fear and injury, but he had no interest or care for either of those things. Vulnerability was for the weak and stupid. He refused to feel shaken or nervous in unknown situations, and overclouded his emotions with rage and the prospect of a good kill. He would follow the sound of her eager footsteps, and when he caught her…

“When I catch you, you little whore…” He sneered, “…When I catch your filthy, heathen ass, I’m going to choke the life from those pretty little lips! You’re fucking **dead**!”

If she had not pushed him hard enough before, _now_ she had done it.

Seven tripped over a stray rock, but could not afford to fall to her knees. Touching the ground with her palm, she steadied herself enough to keep running. She knew that she was in even more trouble, now; the angrier she made him, the worse her death would be. Still, she knew that escaping was damn well worth the effort.

She barely held back a frightened scream when she heard his menacing footsteps close in on her. His speed had increased. Now, he was angry _and_ fast, preparing to reach out, grab her, and smash her to the ground. Her ankle would not allow her to outrun him. Her only hope was to forget about slowing down and run just a little bit longer. She knew that there would be a body of water coming up, soon. If she could just dive in before he got to her…

Hidan heard a loud splash and howled a flurry of curses. If he had sped up just a little more, he would have been able to grab her hair and rush her body into his. She would not have reached her watery destination, and he would not have had to dive in after her. He growled lowly and thought about wringing her neck underwater, holding her there until all the air escaped from her lungs.

But he chose a bad time to become lost in thought.

Losing his footing on the edge of the slippery, rocky oasis, he fell in after her.

He sputtered and growled darkly. Shifting his eyes in every direction at once, he found that he could see far _less_ underwater. As if he was in the depths of the ocean, he scrambled away from an unknown creature that brushed against his thigh. Hidan was not used to the unknown, but he definitely disliked it. Ever since his Lord had taken him as one of his few devoted followers, there was not much that was left unknown to him. It was almost unnerving when he did not know how to go about a new situation.  The cavern had been mysterious, making him feel slightly uneasy. Slipping, as well, had made him feel uneasy, for it meant that he was unaware of the terrain around him.

He was beyond pissed. How _dare_ she make him feel this way? He swore that when he found that goddamn woman, she would pay dearly.

No one made him feel uncomfortable.

No one made him look like a fool.

And no one _ever_ fled from divine judgement.

Gearing his mind back to the task at hand, Hidan kept a firm hold on his oversized scythe. With a nimble swing outwards, he grinned cruelly when he felt the longest blade make contact with something soft. Reeling it toward him, he almost laughed when he felt the catch struggle to release itself. Whatever he had managed to stab, it certainly was not a fish. Oh, luck was definitely on his side.

Seven screamed when the metal lodged itself into her upper thigh, choking on the sudden flush of water that rushed into her lungs. The pain was excruciating, even more so when she felt him jerk the weapon from her muscle. The breath she had been holding gone, the woman found herself both bleeding to death and drowning. She could already taste her own blood wafting around her, turning the grimy cave water red. She should have been faster and lower. He had aimed high, expecting her to hover near the surface. It was her own dumb mistake that she had been stricken, and now she would pay the price.

Before she could even think to start swimming away, Hidan had her upper arm in his tight grasp. Her leg and arm paralysed, she could only kick at him fervently. He muttered something that was completely incoherent, clearly amused with himself, and dragged her toward him.

She wondered if he would lodge his scythe through her heart this time, finishing her off for good. She may have been able to walk off a few limb wounds, but _no one_ could walk off death… well, no one but an immortal.

She wondered if Jashin had led him to her, once again, but found herself doubtful. He had been blinded by his fury. The times where he had found her, he had taken the time to converse with his deity. The truth was, he had made a blind swing with his scythe and managed to hit her; Jashin had nothing to do with his atrocious victory.

She moaned as he dug his nails into her fresh wound, looking to weaken her enough so that she would pass out. The scythe had jabbed itself deeply into her thigh, and she had no doubt that she would die in her own blood. He had a vice-grip on her body, one that she could not break; he was far too strong and she was far too weak. What’s more, if she did not rise to the surface for air, soon, she would lose consciousness. If she lost consciousness, then her fight would be over; he would have destroyed her.

One of her hands rose to push against his chest, and she heard him laugh maniacally. The water made his laugh sound deeper, and she thought he sounded like the reincarnation of Satan. Her hand touched his rosary and she flinched, forcing herself not to recoil completely. _‘This rosary is part of the reason why I’m stuck fighting for my life in an underwater cave.’_ She thought darkly, never hating a piece of metal more in her life. One of his hands travelled up her torso, gently sliding his fingertips over her breast. She gagged, imagining the cruel grin that was most definitely locked not his face. A surge of anger imploded in her mind, overclouding her desperation, _‘I hate him. I fucking hate him, Jashin, and this piece of shit rosary!’_

She did not know what she expected to happen. She did not even realize that she was still hanging onto her weapon. She fingered the rusty kunai clumsily, not knowing where to aim. It was too dark to tell where he was, and she had never been trained to handle such a small weapon.

With her free hand, she reached in front of her and placed her palm against his muscular chest. Gliding her hand around as smoothly as she could, she smirked when she found what she was looking for. He stiffened at the sudden contact, but she gave him no time to contemplate it. Grabbing the weapon from her captured hand, she stabbed it viciously into his chest, splitting the link that attached the symbol of Jashin to his neck and puncturing a lung.

Seven gasped hoarsely when the blade made contact with his flesh. It felt odd, like she had just murdered an innocent man. She had never been trained to kill. She had never been taught how far to drive a piece of metal through one’s body. Nevertheless, the sound of the cruel immortal choking on the bloody water made her heart light up. She had felt the chain of his rosary split slowly, a few of the bits brushing past her arm.

Her eyes widened in realization. She had stabbed him in the chest. A regular man would be dying; she would have _killed_ a regular man. But there he was in front of her, seething and dead-set on ending her life. He was a freak in the worst way possible. He would always be alive, regardless of what anyone did. If she blew him to bits and buried him in a dark hole, he would chew his way out. If she stabbed all of his vital organs, he would spit blood in her face. If she crucified him and let the vultures pick his bones, his god would cut him loose.

He would _never_ die.

He would chase her to the end of the world and back.

Her hand shook steadily as she wretched it away from the kunai. She was not sure if she was going into shock or losing consciousness.

It took Hidan a moment to feel what she had done. He wondered where she had gotten the kunai, and why his Lord had not warned him that she was brandishing a weapon. Then he realized that she had successfully punctured his left lung, and blood was squirting slowly into the water surrounding them, mixing well with hers. The pain was instantaneous making him grit his teeth in a mixture of pleasure and agony. He may have enjoyed pain, but he did not enjoy that his victim had turned the tables on him. _He_ was supposed to be the one inflicting pain. _He_ wanted to see _her_ face twisted in agony.

Even underwater, she heard his inhuman roar.

Seven felt his fist collide with her gut, and exhaled her last bit of air. Before she could think to retrieve the kunai and stab him again, he wrestled the kunai from his body and tossed it behind him. He grinned evilly, knowing that she did not have any more tricks up her sleeve. Her weapon was gone and water was filling up her lungs; she was finally done for. Their tedious chase had come to a deadly **close.**

He was grateful that he did not have to take a breath of air. He was grateful that he could not die from suffocation, drowning, or a petty puncture wound. A sick smirk wafted across his lips as she tried to scramble away from his grasp. His hold on her resembled a heavy ball and chain; she simply could not escape. He reached for his rosary, wanting nothing more than to give thanks to his precious Lord Jashin. Because of his almighty guidance, he had managed to get his hands on the woman. He would not let her die… at least, not yet. She had a more precious purpose to serve him, and would most definitely have his fill of her before the month was done.

He chuckled as he clawed at his bare chest, searching for the weight of his pendant. Confusion flashed across his features when he could not find what he was looking for.

No.

_No_.

This could not be right.

Where was it?

He brought his hand to his neck and searched for the chain.

_No_!

His handsome lavender eyes widened in disbelief.

Not only had she punctured his lung, she had also managed to destroy something even more dear to him. He had been the prodigy of Jashin. He had been the first immortal of his religion. While wearing the pendant, he could feel the power of his deity flow through him, like waves crashing against a shoreline. He could speak with his God. He could receive prophecies from his God. Without his pendant, he was nothing.

Without his pendant, he was not a Jashinist.

He did not even need to think about his options. He needed to find it. It was somewhere in the murky gravel below, and he _needed_ to find it.

Before he moved, he tightened his grip on his prisoner, _‘the hunt is still on, little bitch,’_ he thought, _‘and now, you’re going to wish you never fucked with me.’_

Seven felt him release her and move away. Judging from the shift in the current, she could tell than he was moving downward. _‘His pendant… no_ way _. Is it_ that _important to him?’_ She wasted little time with her thoughts. If he was giving her a break, then she needed to take it.

She kicked her legs as best as she could and rose to the surface of the water. Gasping for breaths that her lungs would not give her, the girl managed to climb out of the underwater paradise, coughing like a long-term smoker.

She was lucky to be alive. She had been so utterly close to drowning, and even closer to bleeding out. Her fresh thigh wound was still oozing what little blood she had left in her body, and her lungs felt as if they had been set ablaze. She was certainly not out of danger, yet.

Hoisting herself up with her good arm, she managed to vomit, bringing up most of the swallowed water. It felt good to finally take a moment to relax and release the contents of her stomach. Ever since she had first laid eyes on Flare, a large gash through his throat, she had found herself on-edge and anxious. The Jashinist was a filthy, deceptive, disgusting man. It made her stomach churn, just thinking about him, and she had to hold herself back from dry heaving to the point of passing out.

There was still more to be done. She was at risk of bleeding out, collapsing from exhaustion, and being brutally murdered by a madman. She had to get out of the cave and find help.

She hoped that Hidan would take a long time to find his pendant. Better yet, she hoped that he would not be able to find it at all. There was an overabundance of mud, slime, and watery creatures at the bottom of the cave pool, making it hard to find anything at all.

A small smirk graced her lips as she got to her feet, using the cave walls to stabilize herself. Fortunately, her thigh and ankle wounds were bound to one leg, so she could use her other leg to hold herself steady. Guiding herself along the dark walls of the cave, she finally reached the exit. Rain flew through the crack that she had entered. She felt herself grow excited from the smell of rainwater. For once, the tables were turned; Hidan was the one at a disadvantage. She had been the one to escape his clutches, and had even ruined something valuable to him.

She had a fabulous head start.

Even as she shuffled into the rainy night, she could hear no footsteps behind her. As far as she knew, he was still hunting relentlessly for his pendant.

She knew that she had to head toward her village if she wanted to survive. She had already learned that she could not outrun or escape him on her own. She had to receive special help from a trained expert. If Flare had not been able to reach him by now, Seven would locate the Jonin and ask for assistance.

Falling to her knees, she elected to crawl as fast as she could. With no walls to support her weakened body, she had no choice. Clawing her way through the slick mud, she heard the sound of footsteps up ahead. The good news was that it could not be Hidan, but she vaguely wondered if Hidan had brought an accomplice with him, in case she and Flare had proved to be hard catches, _‘but if he had an accomplice, wouldn’t he have shown himself by now? I haven’t sensed anyone but Hidan this entire time.’_

She shook her head and continued her journey along the forest floor. If she could find her way back to the main path, she might be able to flag someone down for help; if they were not ninja, then perhaps they could carry her to the village.

Opening her mouth, her cries only surfaced as whispers. Darkness began to overtake her.

* * *

 

Shikaku had come to the serene, little village by order of Lady Tsunade.

As was requested by Omi, the village’s chief, he had been sent to train some of the young men and women in the art of being a ninja. As the mighty Hokage, Lady Tsunade had started to lend assistance to the smaller villages around their great nation. Many of the villages wanted to be able to defend themselves against the growing threat of Orochimaru and the Akatsuki, but were unable to do so without Konoha’s aid.

He had expected to spend a few months in the promising, small village, working to transform normal civilians into skilled Genin. Then, he would return home to his family and friends.

He had not expected to come across a young civilian as talented as Flare Toho, and he certainly had not expected to be dragged into the Akatsuki’s ominous affairs. However, when the young prodigy came stumbling out of the forest, scrambling to get away from the vast gloominess of the night, Shikaku knew that his mission had turned into something far more troublesome.

Chouza had come to visit him for a few days on Lady Tsunade’s command; she had asked him to complete a report on how Shikaku’s training was progressing. Of course, Chouza had jumped at the chance to visit his old friend, who he had not seen since the early days of June.

He had expected to fill out a quick progress report, spend a few days relaxing with his companion, and then return home to his family. He had expected to eat his fill of Shikaku’s fine food, give the aspiring youngsters a few tips, and be on his merry way.

He had not expected to lay eyes on a bloody, dying child, and he certainly had not expected to be dragged into a potentially fatal battle.

The pair had been sitting on the porch on Shikaku’s guest house when the wet, beaten, and wounded boy lurched toward them. The old Nara recognized him immediately, and rushed to catch him before he fell into a particularly large puddle.

The boy was shaky, and he spoke as desperately as he looked. He vaguely explained what had happened, but made sure that the two men knew that his sister needed assistance. He reiterated the fact that the intruder was a member of the Akatsuki, but gave them no other descriptives.

Chouza shudder anxiously, “and you’re sure there was only one of them?” he questioned.

“Y-Yes,” Flare said softly, casting his eyes downwards, “th-the-th-there was only… one of them.”

Shikaku closed his eyes and thought back to what Jiraiya had mentioned about the Akatsuki. They were a mercenary organization, with nine to ten members. They travelled in pairs, and did not hesitate to kill witnesses and bystanders. Some large villages had used their services in the past, including Iwagakure. They were a very, very dangerous organization, but only two of its members had ever shown their faces in Konoha. The rest, Shikaku only knew from the Bingo Books.

_‘I don’t think it’s Itachi or Kisame, but I won’t rule them out, just yet… Who else…?_

_Deidara and Sasori. Deidara defected from Iwa and has a strange Kekkei Genkai on his hands. Before he left, he blew up various large buildings in his village. Not much is known about Sasori. No one can be sure if it’s really him that joined the Akatsuki… no one has managed to see his face. Regardless, he’s a well-trained puppet master. We can’t rule him out, either. For all we know, he could be manipulating the man who attacked Flare… or Flare, himself.’_

Shikaku eyed his terrified student, taking extra care to search for chakra strings. He could not shake the possibility that he could be taking to a corpse. Sasori was a fabulous puppeteer who was known for commandeering any sort of puppet, and could even throw his voice to mimic his victim’s.

_‘Yeah, Sasori is definitely someone to be weary of. But what about his partner, Deidara? Based on reports, we should have heard an explosion by now; he isn’t the type to stay quiet for long. And what would Sasori and Deidara want with a defenseless woman and a novice shinobi?’_

The old shadow-user inspected the boy once more before making his tentative conclusion, _‘No, I don’t think it’s them. It just doesn’t make sense._

_What about Kakuzu and Hidan? There isn’t much information on Kakuzu, but we do know that he’s sneaky. He’s the type to handle stealth missions involving assassination or kidnapping. He would be perfect for a mission like this, but why would he do it? A money incentive? Who would offer him money to kill two orphans?’_

Shikaku thought back to how their parents had died, believing that there was a deeper link between Flare, Seven, and an order for assassination, _‘Grayson and Cadence Toho died while on a mission to collect medicinal herbs. In fact, a member from the Yamanaka clan was supposed to accompany them that day, but was delayed. Their colleagues thought that they were onto something huge, something that would revolutionize healing techniques. Maybe the kids know something. Maybe they carried on their parents’ work, and now they’re being hunted. The Akatsuki might have been hired as mercenaries by a wealthy clan.’_

“Can you give us a description of the intruder?” Shikaku asked, finally starting to piece his thoughts together. “If he really is an Akatsuki member, we’ll need to know who we’re dealing with.”

He cast a weary glance at Chouza, who nodded in agreement. He did not want to stir up more excitement from Flare by asking him about reasons behind the attack. Besides, the most important thing was making sure that all civilians involved were out of harm’s way; he could ask the siblings whatever he wanted when everyone was safe.

Still, he could not help but wonder…

_‘Could Flare and Seven have really mastered an incredible healing technique?’_ The shadow-user pondered, _‘I don’t know if Flare has it in him. He likes physical fighting more than careful deduction. Did Seven figure it out by herself? Hmm… I wouldn’t put it past her. She makes up for her lack of physical skill with her mental dexterity. If she did continue her parents’ research, then the Akatsuki must have been hired as assassins to destroy any evidence of her findings. They were probably hired by the same people who murdered their parents… Jeez… It would be a real drag if Flare figured that out… He would probably pull a Sasuke Uchiha and try to avenge his parents in the dumbest way possible. Better not clue him in on anything until this whole thing has blown over.’_

Chouza stared at his old friend for a while. He knew that his brain was churning with possible ideas and solutions, as it always was during the heat of battle. He had no doubt that Shikaku would know how to handle the situation with utmost care, and when the time came for them to fight, they would emerge victoriously.

Smiling slightly, his dark eyes drifted to Flare. The boy seemed nervous. His body jolted at the sound of every bush and plant rustling in the breeze, as if he anticipated some sort of surprise attack, _‘he must have gone through hell,’_ the large man thought, _‘even Kakashi Hatake had trouble battling an Akatsuki member, and this boy is only a novice. I can’t believe he managed to survive.’_

Chouza’s eyes wandered to Flare’s body, searching for signs of blood. Judging by how he limped toward them, terrified and breathless, the older man knew that he had to have been wounded. He noticed that one of his fingers was poking out at an obscene angle, and wondered how he had managed to shatter the bone. His shoulder, too, was badly injured. The enemy must have enjoyed torturing him before moving to administer the final blow. The skin on his neck had a slight copper tint, suggesting that the rain had washed off any trace of the damage that once dwelled there.

However…

_‘I can’t see a gash anywhere. His clothes are torn around his neck, but… There’s no sign of a wound.’_ Chouza took a moment to consider what he was looking at, completely stumped, _‘What happened to this boy? Someone so young… could he have healed himself…?’_

“He was an Akatsuki member…” The young boy mumbled suddenly, finally gathering the strength to answer what he had been asked, “…he came into our house and I threw his scythe and he hit me… and he… he…” there was a pained look on his face, as he retold his story a second time, “…he grabbed Sev, my sister… he… just… _grabbed_ her… he didn’t really do anything to her… at first…” Shikaku wanted to stop him from continuing. His frightened eyes were widening with each word he spoke, as if recounting the gruesome past events were driving him closer passed the brink of insanity.

Before the old Nara could reach to touch his quivering shoulder, Flare began to sob uncontrollably. Tears were streaming down his face like small waterfalls, and his chest was heaving furiously. He could not bring himself to answer Shikaku’s question at all. He could not get the Jashinist’s face from his mind, and it was making him _sick_.

Chouza was taken aback. This was the first actual display of emotion that the teenager had shown them. Something was eating him up on the inside, and he was finally starting to let it out, “He-He… Oh _god_ … Oh _fuck_ … I abandoned her there with him… Him and his fucking fucked up God… I fucking _abandoned_ her… Oh _god_ … Oh my _fucking god_ … _Please_ , sensei… Just please follow me… We need to go… _now_ … it’s not too late, it’s not too late, it’s not too late, it’s not-”

Flare turned back the way he came, still mumbling reassuring words beneath his breath, but Chouza had seen enough. A large hand collapsed onto the boy’s uninjured shoulder, gripping him hard enough to snap him out of his hysteria. He spun the boy to face him, a grave look on his pudgy face, “Before we go anywhere, we need a description of the Akatsuki member. One of the first rules of being a ninja is to gather information before entering a serious battle. I’m sure Shikaku taught you that.”

Flare found that he could not look Chouza in the eye. He knew how pathetic he was acting. He knew, and yet, he did not care. All he cared about was making sure that his sister was safe. He had promised her that he would return with help. She had bought him time to escape from their crumbled house, risking her own life to ensure that he would live, and now it was his turn to be strong.

He had to give the two Jonin the information that they needed.

“It’s Hidan,” Shikaku barked sternly, making Flare flinch, “Hidan is the only known member who fights with a scythe and attacks for his God. Am I right, Flare?”

The shaken boy only stood there, wide-eyed and frozen. He could hardly believe that his sensei had known the Akatsuki member’s name. As always, his intelligence level was mountainous compared to his own. The boy wet his lips before nodding slowly, feeling bile rise in his throat. His words were shaky, “B-Bu-B-But… H-How did you…?”

“I deduced that it had to be Hidan based on your account of the event. It came down to the few facts that you gave us: Hidan wields a scythe. Hidan worships Jashin. Hidan would be crazy enough to break into a house and slaughter its inhabitants.” Flare shuddered at the thought of his sister lying dead on the floor, striped of her life and innocence.

Chouza marvelled at the shadow-user’s memory. Though he had taken a quick look at the updated Bingo Books from time to time, he barely remembered any of the criminals’ names, let alone their abilities. He had an idea of who Hidan was, now that Shikaku had revealed his name, but would not have known otherwise, “You’ll have to give me an update on his abilities as we go,” Chouza yelled, frantically, “but we should get moving!”

Shikaku nodded, though he wondered if it even mattered how fast they arrived at the crime scene. From what he had read, Hidan never left his victims alive. Only one person had ever escaped from his brutal ritual, only to die days later, slipping into a permanent coma. He glanced at Flare, who had leapt away from them. The boy ran clumsily, leading them in the direction of the forest, _‘The reality of the situation is… Seven is probably dead. Hidan might still be there with her, but if Flare is hanging onto the hope that she’s still breathing…’_

He watched the worry on the young teenager’s face lessen, and scowled. The boy believed in them to make everything better. He believed in their ability to save his sister. If they arrived to find her dead, would he blame them? Shikaku did not know. Rather, he did not _want_ to know.

Flare was not sure if he was crying tears of pain or tears of joy. He felt safe with his sensei and Chouza. He felt like everything would be alright. If Seven was still at the house with the Jashinist, they would find a way to get her away from him before he slaughtered her.

He _knew_ they would.

They _had_ to.

“We’re almost there…” he murmured, more for his own benefit. They were about halfway away from their destination, and Flare could feel adrenaline rushing through his veins. If the Akatsuki had done anything vile to his sister…

He gritted his teeth and did his best not to think about it. He wanted to save his fury for when he saw the Jashinist’s face. That way, he would be able to give him the most hate-induced fight of his infinite life. He closed his eyes and imagined the look on Hidan’s face when he would come at him with all that he had. The outcome would be different than last time; this time, he would have an even greater reason to fight, and an even greater reason to emerge as the triumphant one.

He would not be defeated.

He could not be defeated.

Too wrapped up in his thoughts, Flare failed to notice the faint chakra signature crawling through the bushes toward them.

Shikaku and Chouza stopped. Shikaku recognized the chakra type almost immediately. There was no doubt about it; it was Seven.

“Flare, stop!”

Shikaku looked to Chouza, as if trying to use telepathy to share his current thoughts. The chubby man stared at his long-time friend for a few seconds, trying to pick up on what he was trying to say.Shikaku motioned toward the bushes, never taking his eyes from Flare, _‘He’s not listening to anything but his thoughts, right now. We’ll have to show him Seven with his own two eyes before he’ll even_ think _about turning around. Man… when that kid has a goal in mind, there’s no stopping him.’_

Chouza marched through the grass and peered over the shrubbery, only half surprised to see a dirty, naked, young woman lying beyond it. If she was not coated with blood, she was coated with mud. Her hair was tangled and ripped in several places, and her breathing was shallow. Her half-lidded eyes peered up at Chouza as he leaned down to take her in his arms. He had expected her claw at his hands frantically; after what she had been through, he guessed that her trust in strangers had been lowered drastically. Much to his surprise, she did not move as he placed his large hands under her torso. Perhaps she had seen his Konoha headband, or perhaps she had heard Shikaku’s distinctive voice. _‘Perhaps,’_ he thought grimly, _‘she can’t even see me, anymore.’_

As Seven was lifted above the ground, Shikaku got a good, horrible look at her. His expression of absolute disgust matched Chouza’s, and he had to hold back the contents of his stomach.

Her wounds were gruesome; the bodies of murder victims looked cleaner than most of them. The fact that she was naked brought rancid thoughts to his overworked mind, and for a moment, he wanted to let Flare continue running. He did not want his pupil to see his older sister like this, but…

_‘It’s his right. He’s training to become a ninja, and a ninja must be able to face situations such as these. As bad as this is, exposing him to a victim that’s close to him might give him even more of a fighting spirit than he already has. It might just give him more incentive to grow strong.’_

“Flare, it’s Seven!” Shikaku roared, once more. Before Shikaku could dart after him, the teenager stopped rigidly.

Flare’s lower lip quivered, _‘Did he…? No._ No _. He didn’t. He_ couldn’t _. Seven is…’_

He whipped around to see the burly Akimichi cradling his sister’s limp body, taking extra care to hold her as gently as he could. He supported her head against one of his large arms, and was inspecting her body for grave injuries. There was a sorrowful look on his face.

_‘It can’t… No. It can’t be her. She’s back at the house… She’s…’_

He took a step closer to her, noting that her eyes were beginning to close. She was barely conscious, and perhaps, barely alive, _‘what happened to her…?! Her wounds from the house look worse, and her leg – oh my_ god _– her leg…! She’s bleeding to death. But…’_ he watched her chest rise and fall slowly, _‘…she’s still alive.’_

“Seven…” Flare murmured, finally coming to terms with what he was seeing, “Seven… Seven… You’re alive… You got… a-a-a-way…”

Shikaku stared at the woman’s pale orbs, remembering that they once shone as bright as the sun. Sticks and pebbles were stuck in and around her bloody wounds, making him flinch. She needed to be cleaned up as quickly as possible, or risk contracting severe infections. The ripped flesh around her wounds was beginning to turn purple, and he feared that she would go into shock if they did not hurry. Her skin felt clammy, cold, and wrinkly from extreme exposure to the dreadful elements.

She needed immediate medical attention, or she would die.

She shifted his eyes to Chouza, who was staring down at Seven worriedly. Neither of them were healers. The most they could do was rush her to the village for surgery and herbal treatments. Even then, he doubted if simple treatments would be enough. What she truly needed was a medical ninja, _‘but the closest one in back in Konoha. That’s an easy four hour trip by foot. If we wait that long, she’ll succumb to her injuries.’_

Shikaku grunted in annoyance. The situation was getting bleaker and bleaker by the second.

Flare appeared beside the pair abruptly, his heart thudding painfully against his rib cage, “Oh, god…” he whispered.

If only he had been stronger. If only he had started his ninja training sooner. If only he had taken his lessons with Shikaku more seriously. If only she had been trained under his sensei, as well. She might have been able to survive against that bastard Akatsuki member, had she been trained to defend herself.

The regrets were blazing through his head like an ever-blazing wildfire. It did not take long for his eyes waver, yielding a desire for vengeance. The Jashinist would pay. Oh, yes. _Hidan_ would pay. He would pay for defiling his sister, hurting her, and hunting her like a weak animal. He would tear his limbs from his torso, and burn them so that he would be unable to reform. His god would not be able to help him, then. A malevolent smile appeared on the young boy’s face. Oh, how he had plans for Hidan. The next time he saw him, he would be _sure_ to make him suffer.

Just as the thoughts of revenge were becoming too much for his sanity to bear, Shikaku placed a strong hand against his back.

Flare jumped at the sudden contact, veering his teary gaze toward Shikaku’s knowing eyes. Without wasting any words, the old Nara nodded toward the dying woman in Chouza’s arms, “you have to heal her,” he muttered, “She won’t live another hour. And before you ask how I know that you have the ability to heal…” he cracked a small grin, “I guess I’m just a pretty clever guy.”

Flare was dumbfounded. He wondered how long his sensei had known about the healing technique. Had he been spying on them?

He looked from Chouza, to Seven, to Shikaku, and then back to Seven. Her eyes were beginning to glaze over. Her lips were turning pale, and she looked like he wanted to tell him something. She lacked the strength to fight against death, this he could see. She was losing control over her body, and was finding it a struggle to breathe. He doubted if she even realized that he was standing there, right in front of her.

He wanted to hit himself for worrying about taking revenge while she needed his help. He was being stupid. He had been close to being completely engulfed by revenge, but his sensei had snapped him out of it. He shook his head strongly, as if shaking the resentful thoughts from his weary brain.

He needed to focus.

He needed to heal.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Flare nodded to the stone-faced Chouza, “Put her on the ground as gently as you can. She needs to be on a flat surface for this to work...”

Shikaku smirked at the boy as he took control of the situation. He had high hopes for his student, and even more so for Seven. She was barely breathing and bloody from head to toe, but he knew that she would pull through; after all that she and Flare had been through, she _had_ to pull through. They had stood together at their parents’ funeral, and they had stood together in front of their empty house. They had shopped together at the marketplace, while all of the other children were skipping alongside their parents. Seven had taken on small research-related missions within her small village, while Flare studied the ways of a ninja. They had done their best to survive together, to live and protect one another.

They had been raised to be strong by their parents, and once the strong, older sister was back to her regular self again, the both of them would only continue to sharpen their skills. Chouza cracked a bright smile at the same time as his comrade. They believed in the siblings’ will to survive, for the will to survive was equivalent to Konoha’s will of fire.

Flare drew the old symbol that had come to represent their parents. He had regained only a small amount of his chakra since he had last performed the technique, but it was more than enough to save his sister.

Chouza and Shikaku studied the circle, unsure of what the young boy was doing. They had never seen such a peculiar jutsu before, even from the mistress of healing arts, herself, Lady Tsunade. Their eyes widened when a faint white light wafted from Flare’s hands and engulfed Seven’s body in its essence. Flare remained concentrated, not daring to look at the men’s startled reactions. If he made one mistake, the jutsu would cease to work. Both he and Seven had learned that the technique was unfinished and unstable. It was not harmful, but it would not fully heal a wound if it was cast without focus, _‘focus…’_ he willed himself, _‘…just forget about everything else…’_

It took several minutes for either of them to see movement from beneath the blanket of light.

Chouza was beginning to wonder if the jutsu was effective, when he saw Seven’s hand twitch furiously. Her fingernails scraped against the dirt, as if she was trying to crawl away. Was she in pain? Did the technique hurt the target, or was she finally conscious enough to feel her inflicted wounds? Though he was glad that she was alive, Chouza felt his heart wrench for the young woman.

Flare felt himself grow excited when he saw movement beneath the jutsu. She was beginning to heal. Her wounds were closing, and her internal damage was being repaired slowly. For the first time since the insane Akatsuki member had broken into their house, a smile was pulled onto his chapped lips, “I’m so glad you’re alive…” He whispered, feeling confidence flow throughout his body.

Seven felt the darkness that had been covering her eyesight dissipate; everything beyond it was white. She had known that when she closed her eyes and collapsed onto the ground, she would wake up alive. Something told her that, even though things looked hopeless, luck would be on her side. Someone would save her. _‘But who? No one is going to be all the way out here. I’m off-path and it’s dark. I’ll be unconscious or dead by the time someone finds me, and then what? Who will know who I am…? Unless… could Flare be out there, searching for me?’_

She thought of the young teen fondly, recalling the countless times when she had saved him. She had been there for him when he lost his first baby tooth, when he fell and scraped his elbow, when their parents had died, when he had broken his leg…

Maybe it was finally time for him to save her.

She was on the brink of a dream and reality when she felt a warm sensation tingle down her spine. Chakra was flowing into her body at a steady rate, finding her wounds and healing them gradually. The chakra was acting like an equivalent to nourishment. Someone was healing her. Someone knew what they were doing, and she vaguely knew who it was.

She groaned softly, her head pounding like hooves on stone. Her lips were dry and chapped, and she struggled to form words. There were people around her. How many, she could not tell. As for who they were…

“Flare…” She whispered, wondering if he would be able to hear her.

The young boy lit up upon hearing his sister’s soft voice. She was not dead, and she was certainly _not_ going to die. She was alive and healing. He was saving her life, and she was letting him.

For once in his short life, _he_ was _her_ hero.

A grin plastered itself onto his face. For a moment, he found that he could not speak, but regained himself rather quickly. It was almost unbelievable, how she had been found and saved. He wondered how she had managed to escape from the sadistic Jashinist, who seemed hell-bent on capturing her.

“SSSev…en?” Flare managed to utter, trying to keep his emotions under control.

Chouza watched the scene with a small smile on his face. It was truly a miracle that she had not succumbed to her injuries. Most of the blood from her wounds had been drained, and she had not had any nourishment since the attack. Her body was exhausted, beaten, and in need of rest. She had been brave to face a member of the Akatsuki by herself, but he wondered how she could have done it. From what Shikaku had told him, she was not a ninja. Hell, _Flare_ was the powerful young ninja of the pair, and even he did not have the ability to stop him.

_‘What could have happened between this girl and Hidan?’_ The old warrior pondered.

Before he could move his thoughts any further, Shikaku placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face his old comrade, already knowing what he was going to say,

“Chouza, pay attention to your surroundings. This isn’t over. I sense someone moving toward us fast, and they’re definitely not backup.”


	3. GravenImage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chouza, Shikaku, and Flare speak with Seven about the time she spent with Hidan. Seven asserts that Jashin is real. Hidan is getting closer and closer. When he finally makes his appearance, hell is unleashed and one unfortunate soul pays the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own my two OCs and the plot of this story.
> 
> Please read: A’hoy! Here’s another chapter.
> 
> WARNING: Violence, discussions about non-consent, and dark themes.

Chapter Three: GravenImage

 

They stood there for several moments as the chakra signature crept closer. Thunder growled ferociously in the distance, illuminating what was to come. The leaves of the trees tittered in anticipation, and old tree trunks groaned in discomfort.

 

Even as the rain came plummeting from the skies, the group of four remained motionless.

 

Flare stared at his sister with masked fear. His face held tranquility and repose, as if he was confident that the upcoming battle would yield a positive outcome.

 

Shikaku and Chouza stood in front of the siblings. Their bodies were alert, and they were ready to attack upon hearing any sudden movements. They stared into the blackness of the wood, anticipating the arrival of their foe. Neither of them understood why the sadistic Akatsuki member was hell-bent on capturing and slaughtering two innocent villagers, but they were prepared to lay their lives on the line for the truth.

 

_‘Any intel we can get on the Akatsuki is beneficial, anyways, threat or not,’_ Shikaku thought, _‘and if we can figure out why the immortal is after these two, we might be able to apprehend the Akatsuki’s overall goal.’_ He glanced back at his student, his eyes calculated and glassy.

 

The look on Flare’s face marked his fear and frustration, and for the first time since Shikaku had entered the small village, he recognized his student as nothing more than a child. He had been young, unjaded, and hopeful when he had first met him. He had greeting his sensei and peers every morning with a small smile and an eagerness to learn. He would work at honing his skills until sunset, so that he would be prepared for the next day’s lesson.

 

And yet, irrefutably, Flare Toho was still just a boy.

 

Shikaku had taught him how to fight for and protect the people he loved. He had taught him how to kill, and he had taught him how to survive. But, in the end, he was still just a boy.

 

He was unsure of how to think about the situation at hand, and he was terrified for his older sister. He could not hope to take on an Akatsuki member by himself, and he knew this. He sought his sensei’s help, thinking of him as a powerful adult that could erase any negativity in his life.

 

Despite his advanced ninja skills, there was still much for Flare to understand.

 

Shikaku closed his eyes for a moment, deep in thought. The old Nara was clever enough to know that the girl’s wounds were not purely physical, but did Flare?

 

Perhaps.

 

He did not think that Flare wanted to understand what had happened to his sister. Even when she had been found by Chouza, naked, bruised, and unconscious, Flare had not wanted to think of what the Jashinist might have done to her. Shikaku opened his eyes and resumed his stare into the forest.

 

Flare Toho was still just a boy.

 

The boy’s teacher directed his attention toward the wood, again, a grimace on his face.

 

Flare continued to heal his sister, watching her aching muscles twitch under his remedial hands. Some colour had been added to her skin, and some of her wounds had started to close. The greyness that had once overshadowed her wondrously flamboyant pupils was finally starting to dissipate; she was starting to look alive again.

 

A smile graced the young boy’s trembling lips as he realized that she was going to be all right. Her shoulder wound was peeling shut slowly, and her fresh thigh wound had stopped bleeding. She was improving, and that was all that mattered to him. It did not matter that she was naked, or that there were dark purple bruises between her thighs. She had probably used her clothes to set up a decoy for the enemy, and her bruises were from clumsily running through the woods.

 

The youngest Toho clamped his eyes shut as he recalled the immortal’s dark words,

 

**“…Fuck, you turn me on… the way you talk about my power over you… You know I can do whatever I want to-”**

With a sharp hiss, Flare’s whole body twitched. He had not wanted to remember that. In fact, he had completely blocked it out. When it had been happening, he had tried his hardest to rise from the floor and kick the man off of his sister. He had tried to calm his breathing and heartbeat, forget about the pain in his windpipe, ignore the blood that gushed from his wound, and tear himself off of the floor to save her. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he tried not to imagine how utterly petrified she must have been.

 

_‘I was there in the room. I was_ right there _. I could have saved her if I had been stronger. I could have…!!’_ Flare gritted his teeth as rage engulfed his mind. His healing hands trembled, and he had to force himself to keep them flat and steady. It was all true. If he had pushed a little more effort into his training, he might have had more strength. If he had taken his exercises just a little more seriously, he might have been able to master the clone jutsu, and he could have used his clone to fight off Hidan.

 

Warm tears slid down his cheeks. He hated himself, but he hated the Jashinist more. Why had he gone directly for his sister? Why had he not spent more time fighting him? A relentless voice whispered the answer to him, from the depths of his mind, _‘because he knew that you were too weak.’_

 

The gloom he felt overflowed him with pain.

 

**“Wh-Why are you…” Flare whimpered as the man moved closer, “…Why? We aren’t even… Enemies… I’ve never… never met you…” The man plucked him from his hiding spot and wrapped a bloody hand around his windpipe.**

 

Once again, Flare worked to suppress his memories of the vile event.

 

He had given in too quickly. He had been so dumbstruck and so surprised that an enemy had targeted him that he could not have fought back. _‘Sensei said that I would be the target of many enemies once I became a true ninja,’_ the boy recalled, _‘but I never believed that it would happen so suddenly… so_ randomly _…’_

His gaze shifted to his sister’s face. All he could think about was how much he had betrayed her. She had placed her life on the line for him, but what had he done for her?

 

  _‘No… I’m saving her right now…’_ He reassured himself, ‘ _…Her thigh wound has completely closed, and it’s only been five minutes. Without me, she might have bled out by now.’_

 

He felt his heartbeat begin to slow down. His thoughts were starting to mellow out. It was true: he was saving her life, just as she had saved his. He could not have hoped to save her back at their house, but he was making up for that by healing her physical wounds.

 

Several seconds passed before the young Toho felt his breathing begin to normalize. He glanced toward his sensei and Chouza, and gazed into the eeriness of the forest. The chakra signature was creeping up on them quickly. It had probably taken the Akatsuki member a good chunk of time to pinpoint their exact location. Not only that, but Flare was willing to bet that Seven gave him a run for his money, and that he was extremely disoriented and flustered. A smirk graced his lips at the thought of the silver-crowned priest cursing his older sister’s intelligence and agility.

 

She had been taken down while fighting for their lives, and that made him swell with pride. He could hardly wait to speak with her.

 

Flare’s eyes traced Chouza and Shikaku forms. The two men before him were strong, capable Jonin. They had defeated stronger ninja than Hidan, and they believed in what they fought for. They were not ninja because they wanted to kill; they were ninja because they wanted to protect the innocent from killers. He had no doubt that his sensei and Chouza would fight to protect them.

 

However…

 

He still felt exceptionally uneasy. There was a kink in his gut, telling him that things would not go as expected. It told him him to run while he was still able to move, and to abandon his sister in exchange for his own life. What spoke to him was an extremely selfish part of his mind, a part that he often chose to shut out of his daily life. It withheld his darkest desires and unfavorable opinions, his most gruesome fetishes and his forbidden feelings. When he had first began to train under Shikaku, he started to work diligently in order to suppress his callous thoughts, knowing that a true ninja could not allow himself to be warped by such things. Unfortunately, his suppressive methods regularly failed him when he was under great pressure. Now, they were trying to force him to turn on his injured sister, and he could not make them stop.

 

_‘He’s after her, not you,’_ they whispered from the depths of his mind, _‘leave her and run.’_

He shook his head frantically, but to no avail, _‘Hidan is strong. Hidan will rise as the victorious one. No one can defeat him.’_

“No…” Flare whimpered, trying to distract himself by forcing more chakra into his palms.

 

_‘Hidan will slaughter everyone. You cannot hope to protect her.’_

 

Clamping his eyes shut, the boy fought against the dark thoughts with all of his might. He tried to tell himself otherwise. He tried to tell himself that there was hope. His sister’s condition was improving, and they had found her alive. Furthermore, his sensei and Chouza would fight tooth-and-nail to protect them; everything would be fine.

 

It took a few moments for him to calm down, and he was surprised when he found that his healing hands had remained stable during that time. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, reminding himself to remain hopeful.

 

Seven gazed up at her brother with half-lidded, glossy eyes, flinching whenever a thick raindrop landed on her cornea. She found it increasing difficult to stay conscious, but she wanted to be prepared for when the Jashinist finally came for them. She had no doubt that he would find his pendant beneath the murky water, especially with an omnipotent being on his side. Then, he would come to slaughter them once and for all. Shikaku and Chouza were powerful, and she knew that Shikaku was highly deductive, but she knew that they would not be able to stop Hidan.

 

Part of her wanted to simply surrender herself when the priest made his appearance, but she knew that Flare would hear none of that. Her little brother would fight to protect her, as she had done for him since they were children. She cursed how caring he was; if he had a little less love and a little less empathy, he would have no qualms about giving her over to the enemy to ensure survival.

 

She tried to focus on the noises around her, hoping that she would be able to hear him coming. She had never been trained to sense others’ chakra signatures. At home, Flare had managed to sneak up on her several times without having to hide his blooming chakra presence. She made a mental note to begin training herself in at least a few ninja arts, if she managed to get away from the wrathful Jashinist with her life.

 

The woman groaned under Flare’s curative touch, and grimaced when she tried to shift her legs. Though her thigh wound had been healed on the outside, there was still a great amount of inner recuperation that had to be done. The madman’s weapon had torn through several layers of skin and muscle, which ensured that she would be limping for several days.

 

Anguish swept across Flare’s face as he thought about the pain that she was enduring, but he surprised himself by forcing a soft smile onto his lips, “you feeling any better, Sev?” he whispered, hoping that she would be able to hear him.

 

Seven’s gazed lolled up to meet her brother’s, and even through blurred vision she could see the fear that clouded his languid eyes. He was nervous for her, and he was nervous for what was to come.

 

Her lips were chapped and her mouth was as dry as a carcass in the desert. Her tongue, like the rest of her muscles, throbbed when she tried to move it. She was not sure if words would emerge from her throat, but she had been waiting to speak with her brother. Before the ghastly priest found them again, she had to tell him everything. She had to tell him of her promise to him, of the way he had hunted her, and of how she had succeeded in escaping from him.

 

Raspy coughs made her want to throw up whatever food she had left inside her stomach. She had been feeling unimaginably nauseous since the Akatsuki member had barged into their home. Using the small bit of strength she had left, she shifted onto her side and released the tension in her gut. She ignored the pain that erupted throughout her entire body, as cave water and saliva were pushed past her lips.

She fell onto her back ungracefully, coughing as hard as she could to be sure that her throat was clear. Letting her head fall to the side, she spit the disgusting contents of her mouth onto the dirt next to her.

 

“Flare…” she mumbled, wincing as she felt her wound tingle, “…Oh, man…” Her brother chuckled nervously, an attempt to lighten the mood. Seven turned her head to look at the boy, her cold eyes boring into his angry ones. Had she the strength to grab his hand, she would have made the effort. There was a lot to tell him, and most of it would continue to haunt her until the end of her days, “Listen,” she murmured, “I… I need to tell you about him.”

 

The young Toho sibling glanced at Chouza and Shikaku, who had turned to listen to her, as well. Shikaku had a peculiar look on his face, and Chouza’s eyes were as wide as watermelons. They were both shocked that Seven was able to speak; she was seriously wounded and clearly exhausted. Flare urged his sister to continue, curious as to what input she could give them.

 

“He’s… He’s a… He’s a Jashinist.”

 

He nodded, and Seven stopped to inhale a good portion of air before continuing,

 

“He’s… Jashin is… _real_. I… I didn’t think he was… until… until he kept finding me in the forest… It was dark. How else could… could he have… found me in there…?” She gulped, recalling the look on his face as he gunned her down like a wounded rabbit, “He took a moment to ask his God for guidance… he asked his God to… to… to find me. And he… he found me… every single time. He isn’t a sensor type… He _isn’t_. Something… _supernatural_ is… is talking to him…”

 

Flare could not hold back anymore. He placed a steady hand on his sister’s wet forehead, “what did he do to you?” he whispered, “What the _fuck_ did he do to you?”

 

“…I… I…” Seven hesitated as she pieced the events together in her head. She had not expected him to ask her such a thing, at least not so soon. There were things that older sisters could not tell their younger brothers, things that were too graphic and personal to ever be uttered. She shook her head slowly closing her eyes. No, she would not tell him. If he had not heard him attempting to ravage her in their parents’ room, then she wished for him to remain ignorant forever.

 

“He… He hurt me. I g – I guess he was angry that I kept outsmarting him… so he-“

 

“No,” Flare interrupted her, his face stern and his voice serious. He jerked one of his hands to her bruised thighs and tried to gauge her reaction, “What did he do to you.”

 

He had no longer meant for the sentence to be a question, but instead a demand. He wanted her to say it. He wanted to hear her admit to the Jashinist’s sins. Seven, feeling slight annoyance well up within her, frowned at her brother. Frustration tugged at her heart as she released a soft hiss. Why was he being so persistent? All she wanted him to know was that he had attacked her. She did not want to tell him – and was not ready to tell him – what else had transpired between them.

 

“Flare,” she growled, making her head throb, “I have nothing more to say to you, other th-than that he attacked me.”

 

Seeing his sister grow angry with him fueled his own rage, as well. He _needed_ this. He _needed_ to know what the priest had done to her. If he could not muster enough fury before the bastard came crashing through the forest, he was not sure if he would have the strength to defend her. “Just… Tell me.” He replied in a low, dark tone.

 

“ _Flare_!”

 

The boy geared his head toward his sensei, startled. He felt his emotions begin to flare up, and suddenly he was ready to direct his frustration toward Shikaku. The older man, however, stood before him with a calm, stern visage. There was disgust painted onto his eyes, and the wrinkles around his mouth told the boy how displeased he was. “That’s enough. Let her finish.”

 

The old Nara knew that the girl was traumatized from what had happened to her. She looked significantly weaker than before, and even viewed her own brother with careful caution and suspicion. The last thing she needed was her problems brought to light as she was being healed, in the middle of a rainy forest. There would be plenty of time for her to speak about her issues later, and with a highly trained professional.

 

Seven forced herself to smile at the Jonin; she was thankful for his quick intervention. Clearing her throat, she started speaking over Flare’s harsh breaths,

 

“I wanted him to get away from F-Flare. The… only way was…” She gulped, not sure how to tell them about what she had done, “I…” She breathed a sigh of anticipation, before lolling her head to face away from them “I… promised him... I promised him that I would do anything he wanted… I promised… that I would help him worship his God.”

 

She bit her lower lip and swallowed her pride and bravery, “I was really… _really_ … stupid… I was desperate… I didn’t… I didn’t think he would stop…! But… he did. He stopped… and he spoke… to Jashin. I knew that I had to be quick… so I snuck out while he was… well, while he was just… standing there.” She gulped, remembering the inhuman roar he had produced upon finding her missing, “He was beyond pissed… He ran after me and… he kept… finding me in the darkness… Like I said… I think… that Jashin is _real_. I ran into a cave with water… and I sliced off his necklace, and… I don’t know what happened. He went… _crazy_ … he forgot about me and swam after it… and that was how I got away.”

 

Flare was gritting his teeth. A wave of approbation washed over him, as he listened to Seven’s tale of trepidation. His sister was smart and quick; she had managed to flee from an S-rank serial killer with only her wit. She continued to impress him with every sentence that flowed from her mouth, “I ran through the forest…” Seven paused as she shifted her glare to meet Chouza’s, “…and then… I felt myself being picked up. The next thing I knew…” she offered another small smile, this time to the Akimichi, “…I was among friends.”

 

Shikaku spoke up before anyone else was able to, “we’re going to protect you both. You don’t have to worry, anymore,” his sharp brown eyes bore into Flare’s head. They were firm and reassuring. Seconds passed, and his sensei did not break the stare, but instead of feeling anxious, Flare could feel the tension begin to dispel from his being.

 

Shikaku nodded to his student, “just keep healing her. Chouza and I will take care of the rest.”

 

The youngest Toho nodded gravely, eyes flickering to the soft mud beneath his knees. Seven reached an unsteady hand up to stroke her brother’s face, an act that she had done since he was just a babe. It was her way to reassuring him that things would be all right, even when he was utterly hysterical.

 

He wanted to fight the Jashinist himself. He wanted to make him pay for the crimes he had committed, and make him repent for his sins. He wanted to take a kunai and shove it through his throat, watching as he gargled with his own blood. A dark smirk crept onto the boy’s face as he thought of the many ways in which he wanted to inflict suffering on the hectic Akatsuki member. The dark side of his mind was taking over quickly, and it would not be long until he was blinded by pure, unresolved rage. When it finally got to that point, no one would be able to help him.

 

Not Seven, with her sweet, comforting voice and her fluttering touch.

 

Not his sensei, with his undeniable reasoning skills and his uninhibited leadership.

 

And not Chouza, with his big, strong arms and his iron grip.

 

No one would be able to stop him.

 

Not until Hidan was lying on the ground, in a pool of his own dark, dilated blood, rasping for oxygen.

 

“Sev…” he whispered, a sinister tone lingering within his soothing words, “…I’m going to protect you, too.”

 

A loud splash from behind them made Chouza and Shikaku snap their attentions away from the siblings. The silver haired Jashinist stood but five metres away from them, a hideous smirk on his face. His stomach convulsed with laughter, and Shikaku noticed that he had numerous life-threatening injuries scattered across his body. Chouza grimaced at the realization that the man would be difficult to subdue; he and Shikaku would have to give it their all.

 

“Oh, shit! Did I,” Hidan’s laughter had become cruel and sadistic, “Did I seriously just hear you say that you were going to protect them?”

 

Chouza stepped in front of his long-time friend and balled his fists, ready to leap into the heat of battle. “You won’t be getting past me,” he growled.

 

Hidan only laughed harder, holding his stomach with one bloody hand, “I won’t be getting past you? Good one!”

 

As his laughter tapered off, he fingered the scythe that was strapped onto his back. His violet eyes flickered with determination as he locked eyes with Flare. He pointed a mocking finger at Seven and grinned, “if I really want something, I’ll have it, and it just so happens that Lord Jashin gave me that woman to do with as I please. So…”

 

He released his weapon from its holster and sliced it through the air in front of him. Chouza noticed that the man’s face had suddenly become intensely serious. He did not like how rapid the immortal’s emotions changed; he was probably about as unpredictable in battle as he was with his emotional display.

 

Hidan took a step toward the chubby man, digging his heels into the earth in preparation, “…it looks like I’ll have to condemn you for stealing my possession.”

 

With that, he kicked off toward Chouza, eyes glistening with dark intent. Though he was fixated on the large Akimichi before him, his mind was focused on Seven. For once in his life, he did not care to slice up his opponent; all he wanted to do was grab the girl and make a quick escape. He was thoroughly spent from having to chase after her, so much that he did not even want to humor the prospect of a good kill.

 

His scythe hit the earth with a dull thud as Chouza step-stepped the attack. The large man knew that he would have to end this soon; he knew better than to prolong a battle with a Jashinist. If he dawdled for too long, things could get dangerous.

 

The large man clenched his teeth as he performed the seals for his family’s special jutsu, “partial expansion jutsu!”

 

Hidan had no time to be amazed by Chouza’s oversized fist, as he was stricken by it before he could even begin to gawk. The Akimichi watched as his foe hit the trunk of a tree with a sickening crack, flexing his fist triumphantly. He had managed to catch the man off-guard, as he had been trying to dig his weapon out of the muddy earth; he had gotten a lucky hit, but there was a good chance that he had incapacitated him.

 

He turned to look back at Shikaku and pursed his lips. His old friend would not be able to assist him very much, and he needed all the help he could get if it turned out that the priest was still conscious. It was nighttime and the moon was shrouded by thick grey clouds. The famous Nara shadow jutsu could not be performed without light, leaving nothing but Chouza’s physical prowess against a skilled and reckless madman.

 

Shikaku mumbled a string of curses. He was no fool. Though Chouza had not outwardly stated so, he knew that he was useless, to him during this battle. Gazing up at the sky, Shikaku felt himself cursing the weather. _‘Of all the nights that this psycho had to appear, he chose a night with no light,’_ the lazy Nara thought, _‘just my luck.’_

He stared up at the sky for several moments before deducing that the moon would not make an appearance long enough for him to confine the Jashinist. The rain was pouring down relentlessly, and the clouds refused to part for the beaming white orb that hid behind them. The forest around them was pitch black, and there were no candles that he could light. Moreover, despite being a ninja from the hidden leaf village, he did not possess any fire style techniques, nor would he be able to perform one in such a heavy downpour.

 

_‘There has to be something I can do, here…’_ he pondered, as he turned to look at the siblings. Flare was still healing his sister vigorously, and Seven looked absolutely petrified. She had heard the Jashinist’s voice and was analyzing his words. She was shaking like a leaf, and Flare was holding up a brave front. Shikaku studied the situation for a moment before nodding to himself.

 

“Flare,” the wise Jonin called, grabbing the boy’s attention, “don’t stop healing Seven, no matter what.”

 

Flare turned his attention to his sensei, wishing to acknowledge him, only to find that he had disappeared.

 

* * *

 

 

Hidan’s blades delved into Chouza’s flesh with ease. With one simple stroke of his scythe and one poorly-timed dodge, the strong man’s arm was sliced.

 

Hidan cackled as he watched the blood splatter from the older man’s skin. Normally, he would have jumped back to perform his ultimate jutsu. This time, however, he was not interesting in feeling his opponent’s suffering. He glanced behind him and locked eyes with the youngest Toho. The other Jonin was nowhere to be found, leaving his precious prize entirely exposed; he had to put an end to the fight quickly.

 

The Akimichi’s eyes widened when he realized that Shikaku had fled from the scene; it was rare for his friend to desert a comrade in need of help. _‘Did he run to find help…?’_

_No… No way. He’s up to something.’_

Too caught up in his thoughts to apprehend his enemy’s intentions, Chouza was shocked to feel the blades of his foe’s scythe penetrate his stomach. Grunting lowly, the older man backed up and pressed a careful hand against the wound. The pain was numbing, and his vision was beginning to turn blurry. He gasped when the blunt hilt of Hidan’s scythe was jabbed against his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Chouza was not used to being tossed around by an enemy. As a man who weighed roughly 120 kilograms, _he_ was always the one to make bodies fly during a skirmish.

 

Chouza was able to snap himself out of his thoughts just in time to watch Hidan charge toward him from the air, scythe held high above his head. “You’re fucking done!” The Akatsuki member cried.

 

The Akimichi prepared to dodge the attack, expecting it to be as slow and calculated as his previous attacks. A sudden, blinding pain erupted from the left side of his body, much to his chagrin, sending him off-balance. Falling to one knee, he could only close his eyes and shift his body to the side, praying that the next blow would not be fatal. He crushed his teeth together and felt the air depart from his lungs.

 

In the distance, he heard Flare’s horrified scream as Hidan’s scythe pierced his shoulder, severing both muscle and bone. Within the blink of an eye, Chouza’s left arm was being held onto his torso by a thick line of skewered flesh, and the pain was unimaginable. He could not detain the cry of agony which erupted from his throat, as the madman yanked the cold metal out of his body with a dark, giddy giggle.

 

Hidan was in heaven. He was tempted to use his jutsu, just to see the look on the older man’s ailing face. He was tempted to stab every single organ in his body, sharing the pain with him as the life slowly tapered from his face. Ah, but he would have to hold off for now; he had better things to do, and more important people to slice apart.

 

His insane purple irises moved to meet Flare’s trembling body. The green light that engulfed the woman possession was too bright for him to locate her, but he could hardly wait to hear her screams and cries when he made her look at the dead bodies of her guardians. Merciless laughter exploded from his throat, once more, taking in the fear that clouded the youngest Toho’s orbs.

 

Moving his scythe to rest on his well-toned shoulder, the silver haired predator took a menacing step toward his prey. Chouza made an uncoordinated grab for his feet, localizing chakra into his fist to knock the immortal down, but he found that his consciousness was slipping away from him; things were getting even blurrier than before. His fist did not connect with the immortal’s legs.

 

He could feel bloody bile rising from his stomach. After a few more moments, he found that could no longer feel the raindrops splattering against his skin, and he could no longer sense Shikaku’s presence. He was drifting away, the same way that a piece of driftwood floats down a flowing river. The pain began to feel duller as his eyes closed.

 

He tried to open his mouth. He tried to tell the kids to run away, that he had failed to protect them. His lips parted, but shallow gasps replaced his speech.

 

This was it.

 

_‘Shikaku… it’s up to you, now.’_

* * *

 

 

Hidan walked toward the siblings leisurely, as if he was taking a pleasant stroll in the rain. Behind him, lightning flashed, revealing the crooked grin of a maniac. Flare felt like he was watching an interactive horror movie. Part of him believed that this was all just a dream. Part of him believed that he would wake up in his warm bed, covered in sweat, panting from having such a horrible, vivid dream.

 

But this was not a dream.

 

He was really going to die this time.

 

The young ninja did his best to remain calm, knowing that his sister was watching his facial expressions. The immortal was almost upon them, his smirk growing larger and larger with every stride. The young boy jumped when he felt Seven grasp one of his hands. Her face was filled with panic and devoid of sanity.

 

“You’ve got to get out of here,” she panted in a dry, raspy voice, “It’s _me_ he wants.”

 

Hidan stopped and raised a queer brow at her words. “Planning to surrender this time?” He chuckled, shaking his head as if he had just heard a bad joke, “You’re going to pay for all the fucking trouble you’ve put me through, my Seven. There’s no getting out of it!”

 

Seven wanted to cry. She knew that she had placed herself in a horrible situation by fleeing from him back at the house. He had tormented her little brother, gunned her down and sliced her up, and severely injured one of her protectors. Worse yet, he still ready to inflict even more pain unto her being.

 

Her eyes never left Flare’s face as she contemplated her fate. If she could find a way for Flare to escape from him with his life, she would surrender herself to his whims without struggle.

 

All she had ever wanted to do was protect her brother. She had never wanted to bring harm to anyone. Now, only metres away from them, Chouza lay in a pond of blood and rainwater, suffering, as he spent his last minutes suffocating in thick guilt and inexorable sorrow.

 

With a heavy sigh, she squeezed Flare’s hand, “The deal was that he would leave you alone if I did what I promised. Now… I’m serious, listen: You know I don’t ask very much of you… but… as your older sister, I’m asking you to run back and get help… for both yourself and the other man… Maybe… find Shikaku.”

 

The boy shook his head slowly as he heard his sister out. He could not make sense of her ramblings. Why did she insist on giving herself to the cruel immortal? They had grown up together; they were equals. She should not be treating herself as anything less than his equal, yet there she was, telling him to escape and allow her to be eaten alive by the devil, himself. “Sev… Fuck,” he hissed, resisting the urge to shout his emotions at her.

 

Hidan snickered at the naked, selfless woman before him. She had proven herself to be tricky and disobedient. However, when her brother was threatened, she became a compliant little slave almost instantaneously. He could have definitely used this to his advantage, had he not been absolutely furious. Unfortunately for her, she had disobeyed him one time too many, and Lord Jashin demanded that she be put in her rightful place.

 

He lifted his scythe from his shoulder blade and pointed it at Flare, violet eyes boring into the focused boy. “You asked me not to kill him,” Hidan mumbled, moving closer to them, “and you said that you would worship Lord Jashin and do whatever I asked of you… But…”

 

Seven felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to rise.

 

Something was wrong – horribly wrong.

 

He scoffed at her expression, enjoying every second of her fear, “…what did you do, my sweet, sweet Seven? Which rule did you fucking break?”

 

He stood directly over them. They could smell the scent of fresh blood emanating from his dirty skin. A devilish glint in his eyes told her that he had something absolutely dreadful in store for them. He brought his scythe down and shifted the blades so that the largest blade was mere centimeters from Flare’s quivering head. “You’d better answer me soon, or my hand might just _fucking slip_.”

 

Without even a moment’s notice, the tip of the largest blade grazed the young Toho’s scalp, and Seven released an involuntary yelp. He was an unbelievably irrational and reckless man. He did not like to be taken for a fool, and he especially did not like disobedience. She had outwitted him several times in one night, but he had finally caught up to her.

 

And he was going to make her _pay_.

 

Flare, body pumping vast amounts of adrenaline and ignoring pain receptors, kept his hands steady and continued to heal his sister. He remembered the words of his sensei,

 

_‘Flare, don’t stop healing Seven, no matter what.’_

 

He could not allow his fear to overtake him. He had to protect his sister.

 

Tears were ready to stream down Seven’s face. The dread she felt was overwhelming. She had to protect her brother. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she replied quickly and quietly, as not to excite his anger any more, “I-I…! I ran away from you!” she cried, her chest heaving anxiously, “I didn’t – Oh god… I didn’t listen to you… I should… I should have…” She bit her lower lip, hating herself for having to grovel in front of an enemy, “…I should have sat there and waiting for you to give me orders…”

 

The Jashinist snorted, clearly delighted at the response that he had elicited from his gift. Yes, preying on her feelings for the boy had been a delightful idea. He was tempted to keep him alive, if only just to torture him whenever she decided to disobey him…

 

…but Flare Toho was destined to be judged by his Lord, and he would not get in the way of the almighty deity’s dark wishes.

 

He raised a silver brow at Seven and winked at her, though he doubted that she could see him from where she was laying.

 

“Good girl,” he purred, “and why am I so _fucking_ _pissed_ – “ The tip of the blade jabbed deeper into Flare’s bloody scalp, making him hiss, “– that you ran away from me?”

 

Seven nibbled harder on her lower lip and placed her hand on her aching forehead. She wasted no time replying, this time, “Be-Because… Th-That… That wasn’t part of the deal... I was… being… bad…”

 

Hidan nodded gleefully, pleased with how things were going. He felt his pants tighten as she looked away from him, clearly embarrassed and humiliated. He loved how compliant she was being, and he could not wait to do as he pleased with her body. But pleasure came after suffering for her; he would have to be patient, “So if you went back on your part of the deal… Don’t you think it’s only fair that I go back on my part, too?”

 

The insane look in his lilac-coloured eyes told Seven that he was not joking; he meant to kill Flare. Seven swiftly sat up and shook her head, ignoring the searing pain that trembled down her spine. Hidan was not sure if she was crying, as the rain that pattered off of her face created streams that travelled down her cheeks, but he enjoyed how wet her face looked. _‘If she’s not crying yet, she’ll be crying when I kill her precious pussy of a brother.’_ He thought maliciously, twisting the blade further into the boy’s skull a little bit further, before ripping the weapon away completely.

 

He laughed maniacally as he rose the blade higher above the boy’s head, meaning to split his skull in two. Seven was on her knees before him, pleading him not to do it. She cupped her hands together, and she looked as if she was praying to some higher deity. He could not hear her over his own laugh, but he did not care to hear her begging for his forgiveness; he would make her do that later, in the privacy of his bedroom, where she would be unable to compose anything other than screams.

 

That perverted thought alone egging him on, Hidan brought the scythe down on the boy’s head…

 

Only to be stopped, mid-attack.

 

Hidan tried to attack, again.

 

And then he tried with all of his might, again and again.

 

His muscles were… stuck?

 

No.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Someone was manipulating his movements.

 

Shikaku smirked from his position behind the bushes, pressing his lips against the hand sign he had performed. “Looks like I’m not as useless as I thought I was,” he mumbled, thanking anyone but Jashin for his excellent timing.

 

Flare had his eyes closed and his hands focused. He was preparing himself for the final blow that would never come.

 

Seven’s body was bowed across his lap. Tears had clouded her vision, and she was still begging the Jashinist to spare her brother. “Please, you can’t! _Please_! I-I told you that I would do whatever you wanted!” The old Nara scowled, finding her pleading difficult to listen to.

 

“He’s all I have! My whole family is dead except for him, and I – I promised myself that I would protect him, ever since he was a baby! _Please_! Please, I’ll do whatever you want!” She was shaking her head, nose brushing against the mud beneath her. Her arms were draped across her brother’s lap, as if they would be able to protect him from Hidan’s bone-splitting attack.

 

Carefully rising from his place in the forest, Shikaku walked toward the group as calmly as possible. His hands remained signed, and he took extra care to make sure that he was still within range of the healing light, “Seven, that’s enough,” He said, clearing his throat. His tired gaze locked with his student’s stunned eyes, and he could not help but smirk, “Good work, Flare. Thanks for giving me some light.”

 

It took the siblings a few moments to gather themselves before they could look at Shikaku. Seven was huddled against her brother, trembling like a damp animal, while Flare wore a dark grimace. The healing light was getting dimmer, but it was still surrounding them. The old Nara prayed that Flare would be able to keep the jutsu up long enough for them to escape.

 

Seven looked at the mad Akatsuki member, then at her brother, then at Chouza’s dying body, and finally at Shikaku. She knew of his ability to create shadows that bound the enemy to the user, but she had never seen it in action before. Flare had described it as a phenomenal technique, one that excelled in both steady manipulation and artistic beauty.

 

With careful eyes, she traced Hidan’s looming shadow to Shikaku’s strong stature. There was a thin, dim shadowy line connecting the two together; Hidan would not be able to move for as long as the crafty Jonin had light and could keep his hands signed. He was stuck, unable to harm anyone. This fact must have clicked at the same time for both of the siblings, as they glanced at each other at the same time.

 

Blood had begun to spill down Flare’s face from his shallow head wound, making him look grim and sinister. The crimson fluid dribbled off of his chin and onto his trembling arm; he had underestimated the amount of blood that a scalp wound could produce. He stared at his sister’s worried face. He was not sure if she was crying, or if the raindrops were splattering against her face a little too hard. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were swollen. He wanted to give her a hug.

 

 “Oh, Flare,” she mumbled, at a loss for words, “You’re okay... I can’t believe you’re okay…”

 

 

Her smile enraged the Jashinist to no end. If she had not escaped from him at the house, if she had not played with his mind inside of the cave, if she had not found her comrades… he growled lowly, giving him the aura of a predator. If he had taken her immediately, if she was in his arms right now, if he had caught her smiling when she was with him…

 

He caught her eye in mere seconds, the fury coming off of him in thick waves. She stared up at him, completely stunned.

 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispered, “I’m going to fucking carve up your skin in the name of Lord Jashin. I’m going to keep you alive for weeks before I finally fucking kill you. Every second you live will be filled with pain, you stupid fucking bitch. You’re fucking _mine_.”

 

Oh, how he wanted to kill her. Dear Jashin, how he wanted to defile her until he was satisfied, and then give her the death that she so dearly deserved. His rage was getting the better of him; anger was getting in the way of his Lord’s divine goal to keep the woman alive and relatively unscathed.

 

No…

 

No.

 

He would not kill her.

 

He would force her to bend to his will, take away everything that she loved and replace it with himself. She would grow reliant on him; she would worship him. Lord Jashin would gain another follower, and he would gain a slave.

 

Hidan had obtained many slaves over his years of being an Akatsuki member. This slave, however, would be different. This slave would be a gift from Lord Jashin, and he would cherish her until she died…

 

…which would be after she served her sanctified purpose.

 

Adrenaline pumping, the Akatsuki member began to struggle against the jutsu. Gritting his teeth, Shikaku had to concentrate; one wrong move or one silly mistake, and the Jashinist would be free. The way he was eyeing Seven, like he wanted to fit her pretty little neck between his hands and squeeze until she was blue, made his skin prickle. He was determined to get free, but the Jonin could _not_ let that happen. The priest was violently writhing against his shadow possession jutsu, and Shikaku did not have to look at him to sense how bloodthirsty he was.

 

His grimace deepened when he realized that Flare’s healing light was getting dimmer and dimmer by the minute. The boy was exhausted. Shikaku was surprised at how little chakra the boy had lost from keeping up the jutsu for so long. _‘What incredible prowess,’_ the old Nara mused, _‘the Toho family was really on to something with that jutsu.’_

 

However, Flare was not a super human; sooner rather than later, he would run out of chakra, and that was what Hidan was counting on. As soon as the light faded, the Jashinist would waste no time running through his student’s head with his scythe. From there, he would take Seven and leap away, leaving Shikaku to tend to Chouza. The immortal was not the brightest tool in the shed, but he was no fool. He understood that Shikaku’s top priority would be to tend to his dying comrade. With his chakra nearly exhausted from his shadow technique, he would not be able to trail the Akatsuki member successfully, anyways.

 

The shadow-user grunted and poured even more chakra into his jutsu. He had to get the siblings away from the forest. He had to make sure that they were safe and sound, far away from ‘the word of Jashin’. Never taking his eyes from Hidan’s silver crown, Shikaku called to Flare, “Can Seven move?”

 

Seven snapped out of her frightened trance when she heard her name being called. The dying green light emitting from Flare’s fingertips gave Shikaku’s old face a somber demeanor.

 

Could she move…?

 

That was a good question.

 

Placing a hand against the ground beneath her, Seven slowly managed to get to her knees. Flare watched, tears brimming his bright hazel orbs. He was shocked that she had the strength to rise from the ground on her own. Her external wounds were nearly gone, but the internal damage was still ever-present. Yet, there she was, struggling to prove to everyone that she was strong enough to prevail. Though her face was solemn, he could see a glimmer of pride in her eyes.

 

Hidan hissed, infuriated his prey was still able to move. And that goddamn gleam in her eyes… He would put an end to her efforts now, before they proved to be even more troublesome in the future.

 

He let out a throaty chuckle and licked his bloody lips, “yeah… yeah, you look good on your knees, woman,” he whispered, making her body stiffen. He could feel Shikaku’s cold, hard gaze on the back of his head. The old man was smart enough to know what Hidan was doing, and though he could stop his body from moving, he could not stop his mouth. The Jashinist smirked, “you’ll be like that a lot when we get back to the base.”

 

Seven did not have the gall to glance up at the priest, but his words made her nervous. She knew that he was still bound by Shikaku’s jutsu, but part of her mind was telling her not to stop; part of her mind warned her that he was going to break the jutsu if she did not hurry. She would have time to contemplate his words and what they meant later. Right now, she knew that she had to keep moving.

 

Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes and placed her hands on the damp earth. Determination filled her heart with hope. She was going to stand on her own, despite the searing pain from her internal injuries. Her thigh burned, but it was her shoulder wound that cried out for her to stop. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood as she pulled herself to her feet.

 

Flare did not move a muscle. He knew that if he flinched, even just a little bit, the healing light would fade. It was getting difficult for him to maintain the jutsu, now. His chakra was almost depleted and he found himself panting vigorously for breath. _‘At least Seven is okay,’_ he reminded himself, _‘remember, whatever happens, you’re doing this to protect her.’_

 

Shikaku knew that his student was putting his life on the line to help keep the immortal in check. It was dangerous for someone of his skill level to push his chakra limit, but he was doing it out of the sheer love he had for his sister.

 

Hidan was being difficult. He was fighting both physically and emotionally, making the shadows stretch and struggle to hold onto him. His muscles rippled under the jutsu, expanding the shadows as if they were bungee cords. He knew exactly what he was doing; he knew that if he resisted long enough, Shikaku would exhaust his chakra. He also knew that Flare would be unable to move, as he was providing the light.

 

_‘As soon as I lose control of him, he’ll bring his scythe down on Flare’s skull and grab Seven,’_ he grimaced at the thought, _‘and that damn immortal is waiting us out.’_ Shikaku stared at the ground, focusing on maintaining the jutsu in the small amount of light he still had to work with. Things had stopped looking positive when Hidan had proved he was strong enough to counter the jutsu.

_‘I have to find a way to incapacitate him.’_

Hidan’s free hand was beginning to twitch, indicating that he was regaining control of his movements. By this time, Seven was trying to regain her sense of balance. With every step she took, the Jashinist’s fury grew. _‘This woman… This fucking woman…!’_

 

“You’re going to fucking pay…” he snarled at her, making her shudder.

 

“Seven,” Flare muttered quickly, making sure that the infuriated priest did not distract her, “take my jacket. I dropped it when we first found you. It’s on the ground near… near… Chouza…” The boy said the Akimichi’s name with sympathy. He was not sure if he was alive, and he certainly did not want his sister to see his body, but she needed to keep warm. She could not keep running around in the rain, stark naked, with a crazed Akatsuki member hunting her down.

 

The eldest Toho scanned the dark forest, searching for Flare’s jacket and dreading the close-up she would receive of Chouza’s motionless body. Her eyes finally landed on the clothing of interest, discarded on the damp, muddy ground only a few feet away from her.

 

Seven placed one foot in front of the other, taking extra care to keep her arms ready in case she fell. She kept her eye on the silver-haired madman as she walked past him, expecting him to make a grab for her. He locked eyes with her, just as she disappeared from his sight. His eyes foretold the truth behind his aggressive words, but she refused to acknowledge the intent; that would only slow her down.

 

“Okay…” she whispered, finally reaching the jacket. She bent down to scoop up the long, grey garment. When she finally stretched her joints enough to fit her arms through the sleeves, she was content to find that it only just covered her butt. She did not want to get ogled by anyone if – or when – they finally made their getaway. Much to her surprise, the jacket was not wet on the inside, meaning that it was made of very good and very warm material. She zipped it up until the zipper reached her neck, wanting to reveal as little skin as possible.

 

Flare almost smiled when he saw his sister put on his jacket. _‘I’m sure she’s relieved to finally have some clothes.’_ He recalled their father always giving him his jacket on cold, rainy days, back when he used to take them for a brisk walk in the forest.

 

Shikaku grunted when he felt Hidan pull at the shadows for dear life. With his rage came unimaginable strength, and unimaginable strength meant that he would break his jutsu in no time. _‘I only have one shot at this,”_ the Jonin thought, _‘and I need to do it_ now _.’_

Slowly, the shadowy hand on the Jashinist’s chest began to rise to his neck. Hidan noticed the slithering sensation almost immediately, and stiffened; he had not expected the old shadow-user to have any more tricks up his sleeve. Was he planning to choke him? Did he think that he would be able to kill him? His efforts would prove to be fruitless.

 

The priest laughed, and Shikaku was sure that he heard a hint of worry in his voice.

 

“Don’t be stupid, old man!” the immortal shouted, a sick grin on his face, “You can’t kill me! As soon as I get out of this jutsu, this little brat is the first to die, and you’re next! Then, I’ll rip that fucking jacket from the woman’s body, and-“

 

“Shut the fuck up.” Flare snarled, looking up at Hidan with venomous eyes. Hidan stared back at him humorously, smirking at the way the boy got angry whenever he talked about his sister.

 

Shikaku noticed the tremble in the healing light when Flare’s temper raised, “Calm down, Flare! He’s just trying to get to us! Keep focused!”

 

The shadowy hand had finally reached the immortal’s neck, and Shikaku had to keep from shuddering. He wondered if his plan would work, seeing as Hidan was immortal. He knew that killing him was completely out of the question, at least, for now. But would he be able to choke him out? Could immortals be knocked unconscious?

 

Taking a deep breath, the old Nara pushed himself to his limit and forced the hand to squeeze the pale flesh of Hidan’s neck.

 

The Jashinist choked mid-laugh, lungs struggling to recover their lost bit of oxygen. Ah, so _that_ was the tricky Jonin’s plan. He was smart enough to realize that trying to kill him would be a waste of his precious time, so he aimed to choke the air from his body.

 

He could not remember if he had ever been choked before, but a slight fear pricked at his heart. He was a faithful follower of Lord Jashin, and he was seen as useful to the almighty deity; he would not die. Still, there were times of desperation where the fear of death ghosted over his mind. Of course, he would never let the enemy learn of his distress. Thus, instead of masking it with a face of courageous bravery, he let loose a face of untainted insanity. His eyelashes fluttered, and his deep lavender eyes were suddenly wide, bloodthirsty, and insane. His lips stretched across his face and he revealed a sadistic grin. With his silver hair wet and disheveled, he looked like a demonic hellion.

 

The shadowy hand tightened around his windpipe, but it was not tight enough to stop him from speaking. He released a small, hoarse chuckle, locking his eyes onto Flare’s focused face. The young boy refused to look at him. Seven stayed back, unsure of what was going to happen.

 

“I’m going to kill you all,” he wheezed, “I’m going to make you watch when I take that woman as Lord Jashin’s gift, and I swear…” he gasped as he felt the hand begin to crush his windpipe, “I swear… Seven!” He knew that he caught the girl’s attention based on the small, sweet whimper she involuntarily released. He tried to chuckle, but only ended up gagging on his own saliva, “…You’ll be mine forever.”

 

His eyesight was getting hazy, and darkness was beginning to overtake him. He had said what he had wanted to say. He had managed to instill fear into his possession, and no word of it had been a lie.

 

He hated her.

 

He hated her for making him so confused.

 

First, he wanted to kill her. Then, he wanted to have his way with her. Finally, he had settled on taking her as his own, teaching her the ways in which she would serve her new master, day in and day out.

 

He fought to keep his eyelids from closing, but to no avail.

 

The last thing he saw was a small smirk on the youngest Toho’s arrogant face.

 

He swore that he would kill the boy, regardless of what his little Seven had to say about it.

 

Her opinions would no longer matter once she was within his grasp. Her opinions would become his opinions, and her life would revolve around his wants and needs.

 

Oh yes, it would not be long, now.

 

By the end of the night, they would all be dead.

 

They would all be dead, and she would be crying.


	4. Take It Out On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidan is choked out, but there is more trouble on the way. The siblings temporarily part ways with Shikaku and Chouza. A new enemy faces a determined Flare and horrified Seven, demanding information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this chapter. Many thanks to those who have given me kudos! Please, tell me what you think. I’d love to know if I’m doing a good job, what I can improve on, what you think should happen, etc.

Seven stared at the deranged priest as he tumbled to the ground, no longer held to his feet by Shikaku’s ominous shadows. His lavender eyes closed just as his body hit the earth, right next to Flare’s knees, and they were all spared from his mouthful of obscenities. It was eerie to see him there, his body still and his face calm. Sans his ripped robe and bloody scythe, he looked like a normal villager when he was resting. ‘It just goes to show that murderers, rapists, and the like have several faces.’ The woman thought, sombrely.  
Her eyes jerked to where her brother sat, sweating and panting furiously. He had overexerted himself on their behalf; if it had not been for his almighty stamina, they would have been systematically killed in fierce, gruesome ways. Finally, unable to maintain his chakra any longer, Flare let his hands drop and the green healing light faded. The group were shrouded in darkness in mere seconds. Seven gulped, ‘mere seconds were all the time he would have needed to slaughter us all.’  
Behind her, she could hear Chouza panting heavily. The poor Akimichi had sacrificed himself to distract Hidan and buy Shikaku time. He was a hero, and Seven was deeply appreciative of his efforts. Though his breathing had become thick and strained, she believed that it was not too late to save him. Had she the strength to do so herself, she would have limped over to him and saved his life as he had saved theirs. Alas, she was utterly useless; a liability. Though she was proud of her comrades, it was frustrating to watch them overcome their weaknesses right before her eyes. She wanted to display her strength, as well. She wanted everyone to know that she could handle herself and hold her ground, regardless of the situation. ‘Except you can’t,’ a voice within scolded her, ‘you couldn’t stop Hidan from hurting Flare. You couldn’t even stop him from conquering your body. You’re the weakest one, here.’  
Yes. That was true.  
She was the weakest link amongst the four of them. What could she do besides heal? Intellect only served as a useful component when it was backed by physical strength or remarkable jutsu. She had never learned how to control her chakra, so she had no special techniques and she could barely use her healing ability for more than fifteen minutes. Sure, Flare had taught her how to throw and catch kunai and senbon, but what good would those skills do when there were no weapons nearby?  
The young woman bit her lower lip furiously, utterly disgusted with herself. ‘If I ever get out of this with my head intact, I’m going to ask Shikaku to train me alongside Flare.’ She thought, heart swelling with resolve, ‘I want to be able to carry my own weight in situations like these. I don’t want to end up dead… like our parents…’  
Shikaku’s body relaxed as he released his hand sign with a deep, laboured sigh. He was shocked. The odds were against them, and yet they had succeeded. His student had managed to maintain his healing light long enough for him to choke the immortal out. Their short victory had had been due to both teamwork and sheer luck. They had all worked together. Chouza had distracted the Jashinist while Shikaku plotted and Flare healed his sister. Then, Flare had generated a small light for Shikaku to manipulate his shadows. Finally, Seven had served as an unknowing distraction so that Shikaku could calculate a solid plan and perform his hand signs. The old Jonin smirked, ‘Surprisingly, a job well done.’  
He glanced at the Toho siblings, analysing them carefully. There was terror and guilt in Seven’s eyes. The woman was smart enough to realize that their horrific night was not over; she knew that they would still have to flee from the immortal. The old Nara saw that she was biting her lip savagely, too caught up in her thoughts to realize that she had broken through the flesh with her teeth. He could only imagine how guilty she felt, having believed that the entire situation was her fault. His tired eyes drifted over to where Chouza lied. It was likely that the eldest Toho felt responsible for the large man’s injuries, as well as Flare’s pain and exhaustion. When he saw her again, he would have to speak with her privately; counselling could definitely be needed in order for her to recover.  
The situation was still as tricky as before. Shikaku knew that his top priorities were getting Chouza to safety and escorting the Toho siblings away from the ravenous Akatsuki member. Perplexity struck him, for the umpteenth time that night, ‘If I take them with me when I carry Chouza to the village, it’s likely that Hidan will follow. He’ll keep on hunting Seven until he’s subdued, and if he finds her within the village, there will be a lot more lives at stake; I don’t put it past him to tear apart the entire village searching for her. Oh, man… This is bad.’  
His dark eyes darted from Flare to Seven several times, trying to think up a conclusion wherein they would be able to travel with his aid, ‘Chouza doesn’t have much time, so I have to take him to their village as soon as possible. There was a pretty efficient doctor, there. Anyway, he wouldn’t hold out if I took him all the way back to the Leaf, and the only other village is at least two hours away. No, there’s no other way. I need to get Chouza medical attention, and I need to get these kids out of here.’  
Glancing down at the Jashinist, he grimaced when he noticed that his breathing had quickened; he would not be unconscious for much longer. ‘Damn. We probably have about ten minutes, at most, until he wakes up. I don’t want to do this, but…’  
Seven stared down at the man who had both terrorized and violated her. Twice in one night, she had seen the man’s consciousness slip away from him, once by her hand and once by another’s hand; she knew that he would not stay down for long. She knew that if they were going to make their getaway and find help, they would have to do so quickly. She guessed that he would awaken within ten to fifteen minutes, if they were lucky. She twisted her head to look at Shikaku, who looked as though he was in deep thought. He had saved their lives this time, but she doubted that he would be able to again, if Hidan managed to gun them down. The old Jonin had given it his all, and he looked to be just as exhausted as Flare.  
The eldest sibling gazed up at the rainy sky. The heavens were crying, crying for them to escape.  
Flare hissed in pain as he clumsily rose to his feet. How long had he been kneeling for? His muscles felt stiff and his joints were being difficult; he would have one hell of a time running, when the time came to initiate their hasty departure. Dabbing a finger into the wound atop his head, he knew that he would have to heal himself up when he regained enough chakra. The scalp was one part of the human body that bled like mad, and clumsiness due to blood loss would not be ideal as they conquered their current endeavour.   
His eyes traced the environment until they fell on Seven, shivering violently from the cold. She looked warm yet restless in his jacket, and he wanted nothing more than to hug her. He was happy that she was alive – that they were both alive.  
His eyes wandered to Shikaku, who looked agitated. His sensei had done well in such a difficult situation, but Flare could guess that he was weak from having to use his jutsu for so long and with such a weak light source. Finally, his travelling eyes landed on Chouza, the brave Akimichi who had offered his body as a sacrifice to the sadistic Jashinist. He was managed to fend off Hidan long enough for Shikaku to devise his plan and for him to heal his sister. He prayed that the large man would recover; he did not deserve such a punitive doom.  
Shikaku walked over to his student. His face was sombre and his eyes described the obstructions that he harboured within. He had finally come to a conclusion, but the conclusion was not ideal in the least. Flare could tell that his sensei was at a loss for what to do, but was trying his utmost best to keep them away from danger. He admired Shikaku Nara, and was grateful for his aid during such a perilous time. ‘Whatever you decide, sensei,’ the boy thought, his cold gaze unfaltering, ‘whatever you decide, I won’t hate you.’  
Seven managed to hobble over to the pair, nearly falling to her knees several times due to wooziness. She was far from being completely healed, and both Shikaku and Flare were surprised that she even had the energy to walk on her own. Shame was plastered across her visage when she reached them. They had heard the insane priest degrade her in such a hyper-sexual way, and now there was no hiding what had happened to her. She hated that her younger brother had an awareness of her assault. She wanted nothing more than to knock the boy out, drag him home, and wait for him to wake up, to tell him that it had all been a bad dream.  
Shikaku placed a soft, gentle hand on Seven’s shoulder, but quickly regretted his decision when she flinched away. She was deeply scarred, and a male’s touch was probably not the best treatment for her extreme stress and humiliation. He retracted his hand and mumbled a quiet apology before turning his troubled gaze to Flare.  
“You need to get out of here,” the Jonin said, “I don’t think he’ll be out for long.”  
Flare nodded sternly, but refused to look at the Akatsuki member’s unconscious body. Even though he could not hurt them at that present moment, the young Toho could not shake the fear he felt toward the man. He hated him with every fibre of his being, and yet he was utterly horrified of what the Jashinist was able to do to him – to them all. He was strong; much stronger than Flare could ever hope to be.  
“Where can we go?” The boy asked, “He’ll find us. It doesn’t matter where we hide or how far we run.”  
There was something indescribable in his student’s voice that made Shikaku freeze for a moment before shaking his head. “Listen up. We’re about five minutes away from the village, right?”  
Flare nodded slowly.  
“I’m going to take Chouza to the village for first aid treatment. Neither of you have the chakra available to heal him,” Shikaku gazed across the wooded area until his dark orbs rested upon his old friend’s body, “he’s dying…”  
Both siblings stared at the ground, unsure of what they could possibly say to comfort the grief-stricken Jonin. It was their fault that the Akimichi had fallen in battle. It was their fault that he was laying in the cold, sticky mud, his life withering away with every passing second. Seven bit her lip to stop herself from crying. Her emotions were skyrocketing to the point where she could barely control herself.  
Shikaku composed himself and made eye contact with Flare, once again, “…As I make my way to the village, I’ll call for backup; there should be a few Leaf ninja in the area. They’ll take care of Hidan when they get here, provided I give them the correct coordinates. I’ll send at least one ninja to accompany you two to your destination, as well, in case Hidan has any friends running around. Then, after I’ve dropped off Chouza, I’ll follow after you and escort you as far as I can go.”  
The old Nara paused for a moment, making sure that there were no detrimental holes in his upcoming plans. Flare stared at the man, trying to anticipate his response.  
“I want you to go to the Hidden Leaf Village.”  
Seven’s eyes widened. Had she heard him correctly? She swallowed hard, body quivering with hopelessness. She could not have heard him correctly. The Hidden Leaf Village? That was numerous kilometres away from their little village; Shikaku, himself, would have had to travel for at least two days to reach it. How could he expect two regular siblings to make such a long, dangerous trek, particularly with their appalling injuries?  
‘No. It’s impossible,’ she thought, ‘Shikaku isn’t stupid. He’s got something up his sleeve.’  
Before she even dared to question his word, the pineapple-headed man turned to his student, a grimace on his face. He leaned in so that his mouth was nearly touching the boy’s ear, taking extra care to muffle his voice as much as possible. “If you don’t leave this area now,” he mumbled, “the probability of either of you surviving is zero.”  
Flare gulped, but said nothing. Shikaku paused, allowing the youngest Toho to take his words to heart.  
“…One of his comrades is headed this way. I don’t recognize the chakra signature, so I can’t tell you who it is, but I can feel his killing intent from here. He’s angry. Maybe he sensed that his partner was in danger. I don’t know.” Shikaku placed a firm hand on Flare’s shoulder for emphasis, leaning back so that Seven could hear him, again, “You need to take your sister and get out of here. The Leaf Village will be about two to three days away, give or take. With your injuries, maybe four to five.”  
Flare nodded, but could not prevent his lower jaw from twitching. Their journey was not over, yet. Worse, his actions would determine his and Seven’s fate throughout their journey. He clamped his eyes shut and struggled to control his growing anxiety.  
Shikaku’s firm grip lightened to one of comfort. He understood the stress that he was putting the boy through. He knew that Flare was nowhere near qualified enough to carry out such a daunting task on his own. ‘There’s no other way,’ he reassured himself, ‘if they wait here, Hidan will wake up before the reinforcements arrive, or his companion will stumble upon them. Either way, they’ll be killed. If they run in the direction of the Hidden Leaf Village, their probability of surviving is inflated… Dammit. I wish there was another way.’  
The old Nara sighed longingly. “Flare, I know I’m placing a heavy burden over your head. I would never ask you to do such a thing if I thought that there was another way for you two to escape. But… the fact of the matter is… there isn’t. I can’t fight while protecting the two of you, and I can’t take you back to the village with Chouza and I, so long as Hidan is hunting you down.”  
Shikaku casted yet another glance over to his fallen comrade. Blood was dripping out of him like a twisted dream, desecrating his battle-born body even further. “I’m going to call for backup as soon as Chouza and I start to move toward the village. They’re capable ninja. They’ll be here within the hour.”His chocolate orbs snapped to the tattered Akatsuki member, lying ungracefully in the mud, “But first, I have to tie up this pest.”  
Flare turned to his older sister almost sardonically, a small smirk on his lips. For a moment, Seven feared for his sanity. Lightning rippled through the clouds, and Flare’s young, vulnerable face was revealed.  
She had almost forgotten that he was still just a boy, ninja or not. The evening’s events had affected him greatly; his soul had been tarnished from some of the things he had seen.  
“We gotta go, Sev…” He whispered, trying his best to hold back the distress that was evident in his tone. The woman jumped at his voice and stared at him with wide eyes, as if she were a deer in headlights. Her brother held out a wet, trembling hand, and she stared at the appendage for a moment, as if its meaning was foreign to her.  
Her eyes jerked to Shikaku, who had taken out a scroll from one of the pockets on his vest. Placing his hand against the circle in the middle of the scroll, he quickly had a handful of spiky wire at his disposal. She watched as he bent down and proceeded to bind the psychotic priest, ensuring that he would have one hell of a time when he finally awakened.  
“Shikaku…” She murmured hoarsely, fondness evident in her tone, beneath the low timbre of fear that rumbled across her vocal cords, “…What do we do when we get there?”  
The old Jonin glanced up at her with a face of neutrality. “Patrolling Jonin or an Anbu Black Ops member will pick you up. Explain to them who you are, Flare, and they will recognize you as one of my students. Seven, tell them exactly what has happened. They will take you to Lady Tsunade, our Hokage. You’ll be safe, there.”  
He used his teeth to finish the tough knot in the wire he had wrapped around the madman. He knew that it would not hold him for long, but it would certainly hold him for long enough so that he would have a hard time with his pursuit. Kicking the man’s body to the muddy earth, once more, the insightful Nara stepped over him to stand in front of the siblings.  
“There are a few tea houses on the way. The first one you encounter is ‘Dan’s Tea House’, heading east from here. Rest there when you can. Dan is about your age, and he’s an ally of the Leaf. If you explain your situation to him, he’ll be happy to supply you with essentials for the remainder of your journey.”  
The Jonin focused his hard glare on Flare, “Remember what I taught you about being a ninja. It isn’t always about fighting. Sometimes hiding in the shadows and using deception is best. Don’t be reckless.”  
He stared at the two Toho siblings almost longingly. He did not want to send them on such a tumultuous mission for their lives. Ideally, he would have wanted to bring them back with him and Chouza, able-bodied and well-fed. Ideally, he would have loved to watch Flare grow and expand as a fabulous ninja.  
He closed his eyes sluggishly, sympathy radiating from his soul. He prayed that he would see the siblings again. He prayed that he would be able to discuss interesting intellectual events with Seven, once again, when he and Chouza returned.  
His eyes widened when he realized that the chakra signature was getting closer, ‘Shit!’  
As he looked Seven and Flare in their horror-stricken eyes, he told himself that there would be time to contemplate and reminisce later.  
“Get out of here, before he wakes up. It’s only a matter of time, now…” He said, jogging over to Chouza. Slipping the large man’s humongous arm over his shoulder, he managed to get to his feet without much of a struggle. Shikaku suppressed a small smirk when he looked up to find Seven and Flare eyeing each other with absolute willpower in their tired eyes.  
“Get out of here,” The Jonin repeated, “I’ll see you two when I get home.”  
But somewhere, deep within the cold recesses of his heart, Shikaku deeply doubted that.  
Flare gripped his sister’s arm so hard that she thought he was going to dislocate her wrist. Wincing, but not having the gall to complain, Seven scurried closely behind her brother. Her cold, bare feet dashed against the mud quickly and violently. Clutching Flare’s jacket to her thin torso, she shut her eyes to shield her irises from the onslaught of rain that sprinkled from the begrimed sky. On nights such as these, she and Flare would have sat on the couch, chatting about their day or passing the stormy weather with a few good books.  
There was a part of her that knew those days were long gone; she would not be returning to their childhood home that lined the brilliant green forest. She would either have a new home in the Leaf, or have a bed that was six feet beneath the soil. She shook her head furiously, not wanting think of such vile thoughts any longer.  
They had been running for about fifteen minutes, losing their balance here and there, but making sure to get far, far away from the deadly immortal. Was he awake yet? Had he pinpointed their location yet?  
Neither Flare or Seven wanted to think about it.  
Shikaku had taken off with Chouza only moments after he had ensured the siblings’ escape. The old Nara had given them foolproof directions, confirming that they knew where they were going and how to make a straight path through the forest. Flare had felt him depart only seconds after them, and sincerely wished that he could have called out to him. He was mortified of what was to come. He was not strong enough to face Hidan or any other rogue ninja on his own, but if his sensei were there to protect them…  
The young boy sighed heavily. ‘We won’t make it far,’ he thought, braving the rain as he gazed up at the cloudy sky, ‘not when he wakes up. He won’t chase sensei and Chouza, he’ll chase us. There’s no escape.’  
Flare had already gone through several scenarios in his head wherein Hidan would arise from the brush behind them and demand an unfair fight. In every single one of his scenarios, Flare had succumbed to the Jashinist in the most gruesome ways possible, his sister crying his name as he died a slow, agonizing death. Then, as the light faded from his eyes, the madman would grab his sister. Unlike the last time, back at their house, Seven would not be able to get away from him using her mind. The Jashinist knew her, now.  
It was all bloody hopeless.  
A bleak part of his mind reminded him that leaving Seven behind would prove to be beneficial to his survival. If he left her by her lonesome, he would not be slowed down. Hell, Hidan would probably stop pursuing him, altogether. He wanted her because she was his sick, religious epitaph; he only wanted to kill him because he kept trying to protect her.  
He glanced back at his sister as she stumbled, biting her lower lip and keeping her head cocked toward the ground. She would never survive on her own. She would not even reach the tea house before Hidan caught up to her.  
If he released her hand now, he could continue to run. He could continue to run and never look back. He could leave her there, on the ground and ankle-deep in mud, as bait for the crazed Akatsuki member tailing them. She would stare off at him as he ran, and he might even leap in the air victoriously. He could reach the Leaf Village in one piece, tell them that there was nothing that he could have done to save her, and start a new life under an alias. The thought was oddly comforting – oddly enticing. Flare’s grip on her arm wavered for a moment, and he found himself more than ready to let her go. Would he? Did he have the nerve?  
Close by, he could sense another chakra signature coming their way. Friend or foe, he did not know, but he did not want to run into them. His sensei had mentioned to him that someone was advancing upon them, a comrade of Hidan’s. ‘That’s probably who it is,’ he thought frantically, thinking of ways to avoid confrontation.  
Even if his sensei had sent for nearby backup to find them, numbers would make no difference. An S-Class missing ninja was a challenge to a ninja as grand as a Kage; there would be no way that a few lowly Leaf ninja could subdue him. Not to mention the looming threat of the immortal. Sooner or later, Hidan would smash through the foliage and slaughter them all; no one would be able to detain a man who had been granted many, many lives.  
They were in tremendous trouble.  
“Flare,” Seven’s quivering voice sliced through his thoughts like a sharpened knife. He glanced back at her, only to find that she was staring right at him, squinting through the rain. Had she felt him loosen his grip earlier? Did she know that he had been thinking of leaving her behind? Would she call him out on his selfishness, or would she understand?  
He gulped, but maintained a cool demeanour. “Uh… What?”  
“Stop for a second.”  
The boy looked at her as if she had grown a second head, but Seven made no effort to clarify her demand. He skidded to a halt, almost falling to his knees due to the slippery earth beneath them. Seven pulled her arm away from his hand, massaging it lightly before speaking.  
“Can you sense him coming, yet?” She asked him, eyes fixated on her sore appendage.  
Flare focused for a moment, but soon shook his head, “No.”  
He could not sense him coming, but that did not mean anything. For all he knew, Hidan could be masking his presence to sneak up on them. He stared at his sister coldly, wanting nothing more than to continue on their path to freedom.  
“Seven, we-“  
She interrupted him, “can you sense anyone else?”  
He pondered his response, wondering whether or not to tell her the truth. Would it do her any good to know? What use would she be against an associate of Hidan’s? Seven waited patiently, but eyed him with an air of distrust. Moments passed before he was able to decide on an answer, “Yes. There’s someone coming our way. I don’t know who it is.”  
Seven nodded slowly, taking in what he had said, as if she had already known that there was someone nearby.  
“Are they reinforcements?” She questioned.  
“I don’t know.” He lied.  
“Well… You want to split up, right?”  
“…What?!”  
Flare stared at his sister in utter disbelief, but her grave expression told him that she was not joking. How had she known his deep, dark intentions? Had she really felt his grip on her arm loosen?   
He shook his head vigorously, staring at her as if she was stupid.  
“N-No…!” He stammered, “We’ve come this far together, s-s-sp-splitting up would be a – a death wish!”  
‘A death wish for her, not you.’ A dark voice within mumbled, ‘leave her behind.’  
He wanted to give into his devious thoughts, he truly did. He wanted to be able to get out of the situation alive. He wanted to be able to blame his poor sister for everything that had happened. But…  
He found that he could do nothing but stare at her, mouth slightly agape.  
‘I… As much as I want to leave her behind… I can’t.’ He concluded. And it was true.  
Seven had taken care of him since they were little, making sure that he was well fed, warm, and safe. For years, she had sacrificed her own feelings and expressions for him, only asking for his respect in return. Now, when things had gotten inexplicably obscure and her life was on the line, he wanted to run away. He gritted his teeth hard and looked to the ground.  
His jaw had locked; he could not utter a word.  
Seven continued to glower at him.  
“A death wish for whom?” She asked quietly, reading his thoughts.  
Flare clenched his fists.  
Seven finally dropped her gaze and scanned the dark wood carefully. Raising his head carefully, he followed her stare. What was she studying so intensely? He could see nothing of value. The outlines of trees and shrubbery painted the pathway before them, but it was impossible to see very far into the darkness.  
It took him a moment to realize that she was not looking at anything in particular; she was attempting to calculate an alternate route.  
Gaping, he placed a gentle but firm hand on her covered shoulder and jerked her toward him. ‘I… I can’t let her…!’  
“H-Hey…! Seven…”  
She turned to face him, again, after several more seconds of profound calculation. Her eyes were glossy and she had a faint smile on her face. It was the same knowing smile that she had given him when she found out that he had been practicing the healing technique she had taught him. He hated the air of smugness that wafted around her and that smile. It meant that she knew of something that he did not, and that she was ready to give him a lesson or two in intellect.  
“If we split up right here and run parallel to each other, we’ll reach Dan’s Tea House,” she scanned her brother’s eyes to be sure that he was absorbing her words before continuing slowly, “If no one attacks either of us before we arrive, I think it’ll be safe to travel together, again. Did Shikaku mention how long it would take to get there?”  
Flare shook his head, still baffled by the conversation that was occurring, “No… I don’t think so… But, Seven…!”  
She shook her head, sadly, “No, I think this is the best way of doing things. This way, I think that at least one of us will escape alive.”  
He hated to admit that both his decrepit and his rational mind were agreeing with her. It was true; if they went their separate ways and trekked to the tea house on their own, their survival rate would be inflated. Hidan was mainly after Seven, but he would not hesitate to kill Flare if he was within range. If the Jashinist managed to catch up to them, he would run into either Flare or Seven – not both of them. If he ran into Flare first, the buy would buy Seven enough time to get far away. If he ran into Seven first, he would have completed his mission and cease his pursuit. One of them would escape unscathed…  
Only one of them.  
Flare was not satisfied, “And what about your wounds?” he bellowed, “They’re healed on the outside, but you’ve been limping the entire time. You’re not fast enough to run away. You can’t survive on your own. Fuck, you don’t even have enough chakra to heal a papercut.”  
Flare’s eyes lingered on his sister’s downcast head for a while before he realized that he would not be receiving a response from her. She had made up her mind. She knew of her physical state, and yet, she still wanted to conduct her risky plan.  
She knew that her brother was dangerously correct in all that he had said. She would not be able to defend herself, and she would be lucky to even reach the tea house with her wounds. Nevertheless, she wanted to keep the insane Akatsuki member away from her sibling at all costs. She had brought her fate onto herself, and it was up to her to overcome it; she did not want to hurt anyone else.  
Chouza’s defeated body wafted through her overactive mind, and she winced. That was her fault. Had she just given herself up to him, as she had so wrongfully promised, he would not have attacked the Akimichi.  
No one else had to be hurt.  
If Hidan finally caught up to her, she would stall for as long as she could, and then give in. He would have no reason to catch Flare, after that. He believed her to be a trophy that his God had bestowed upon him, and she was his main goal.  
Seven sighed longingly, and found herself wishing for a better life.  
As a child, she had wanted to become a ninja. That dream was destroyed when her parents were killed; the thought of dying terrified her, and she did not want to risk leaving Flare by himself. Later, as a teenager, she had wanted to become a teacher. Once again, that dream had deflated right before her eyes, as she realized that a teaching degree costed more money than she and Flare could ever hope to accumulate. Finally, as a young adult, she had realized that her calling in life was to assist others. She had always been the caretaker of her brother, and she had the ability to give others the gift of life; she could heal to near perfection. If she practiced and trained hard enough, she could become a doctor and save lives. She could be as valuable to her village as her parents had been, not to mention very, very proud of herself.  
Turning to look her little brother in his eyes, she nodded.  
“You’re absolutely right. I have no defensive skills. I don’t know how to use my chakra for anything but healing. I’m not trained, like you are, and my wounds are aching. I have a limp and I probably will for days. It’s cold, I’m wet, and I’m tired. I might not make it to the tea house, and it’s very likely that he’ll catch up to me. However…” She touched Flare’s hand gingerly and smiled at him.  
‘…You can, Flare, you can reach the tea house.’ She thought, but she was never able to express her profound emotions.  
It all happened faster than either of them could have comprehended. In a matter of mere seconds, a crushing, demonic force was in their vicinity. The chakra signature was deadly, so deadly that even Seven, a novice, was able to feel it. Her eyes widened in panic, believing it to be Hidan. Flare knew better. It was not Hidan, but someone with an even stronger killing intent.   
Whoever it was… they were unbelievably infuriated.  
Whipping around, dull, injured eyes met with crazed green pupils.  
The world felt like it was collapsing. Seven could not move. When Flare had turned around so suddenly, she found herself in awe. How could he move under such pressure? Gritting her teeth, she willed herself to turn and face her foe. Flare would need support, and she wanted to be the one to give it to him.  
The youngest Toho glared at the man before him. Eyes scanning him form, he was not surprised to see a black cloak with red clouds adorning the man’s muscular body. ‘Shit… that son of a bitch summoned a friend,’ he thought, grimly, ‘not good.’  
He stepped in front of his sister unconsciously, and grounded his teeth together furiously. The man stood in front of him, half of his face covered by a dark mask and his head covered with cloth. If it had not been for his headband, signifying that he had defected from the Waterfall Village, Flare would have thought that he had hailed from the Sand Village. He was very tall, and his hands twitched with vehemence; this man was itching for a fight.  
“What are you doing here, Akatsuki?” Flare growled, glad that his voice did not waver.  
Behind his mask, the man cracked a smirk and grunted, “I didn’t expect a brat like you to know anything about the Akatsuki.”  
The young boy’s eyes were clouded with rage. How dare this man insult him as if he were nothing more than a stupid child? Several times in one day, a member of the Akatsuki had insulted and humiliated him; he would be damned if he continued to let any of the organization’s other members step all over him. He clenched his fists and maintained a comfortable battle stance. He had to remain calm. He could not show him how frightened and angry he truly was.  
“I’ll ask you again,” Flare hissed, “what are you doing here, Akatsuki?”  
The masked man balled one of his hands into a fist and cracked his knuckles. An intimidation factor. He scanned his new enemy over with his festive eyes. The boy was no threat; he was just an undereducated stripling who had no idea how things worked in the real world. The girl behind him was even weaker. From the looks of it, his presence was overpowering her to the point where she was only just turning around to face him.  
‘Useless,’ he thought, disgusted with the children before him, ‘but perhaps they can help me before they die.’  
“I’m looking for my partner.” He began, dismissing the frightened look that appeared in the girl’s eyes. Taking in the siblings’ tattered beings, he almost chuckled, “You two look like you might have run into him. I know he was headed in this direction.”  
He took a step toward them, causing Flare to dig his heels into the wet earth. The boy was ready to pounce if his masked foe showed any indication that he was going to launch an attack.  
Seven shook her head slowly, finally realizing that the man before them was an acquaintance of Hidan. Their luck could not have been any worse.  
‘Two Akatsuki members in one forest. If we don’t get out of here soon-‘  
Her eyes darted toward Flare, sure that he would be cowering away in terror upon understanding their predicament. She was surprised to find that he had whipped out a kunai from his pocket and was twirling it around his pinkie finger. His face reeked of determination, and his shadowed eyes told her that he was so mentally unstable that he thought he could take on the S-Class criminal.  
She did not blame his mind for shutting down; she was close to losing her sanity, as well. Would she be able to get through to him before he did something reckless? Was it too late to call his name helplessly, hoping that some part of his former self would respond to her? He would die there, if he dared to lunge at the masked man.  
“Flare…” she whispered, watching him lick his lips.  
He wanted to kill the man that stood in their way; there was no convincing him otherwise.  
Before she could reach out to touch him – praying that the feel of her fingertips would be enough for him to hesitate – the young Toho charged at the Akatsuki member, feet pounding against the ground and mouth screaming obscenities.  
Seven watched as he held his weapon in front of his face, cursing the Akatsuki and everything that they had ever done, feeling the pain laced into his words.  
She watched as the masked man side-stepped his attack, and she cried out when her little brother was punched hard in the gut, making him drop his weapon and stagger backward.  
She screamed his name in utter horror, willing her legs to move. Blood furnished the ground as the masked man took Flare’s discarded kunai and slashed his eyes with the blade. His horrendous cry stung her ears, and the memory would haunt her until she took her last breath.  
Watching him fall to his knees, Seven took a meagre step toward the two ninja, finally finding the strength to move. Her legs wobbled under her weight and the threatening energy of their opponent. Flare’s mouth was open wide, but nothing was emerging from his throat; he looked to be in a state of shock. She took a few steps closer, ignoring the harsh glare from the man.  
She had to see how bad it was.  
Getting a better look at him after inching closer to the duo, the woman immediately knew that he had lost his eyes. Did he know? Did he understand that he would never see again?  
The Akatsuki member had stopped paying any mind to her slow advancement, deeming her to be an inadequate and needless opponent. He was correct; she would not be able to do anything to assist her brother. The man before her was beyond both of them in skill, and she knew better than her younger brother that there would be no way to defeat him. If he so wished, he could kill them both where they stood, effortlessly. Her eyes watered as she made her way closer to the pair.   
She had to reach Flare; she had to be there for him.  
The masked man spun the bloody kunai around his finger and tossed it to the side, glaring down at the boy before him. Seven watched, again, as their opponent rolled his right shoulder and pressed the fingers in his right hand against each other, mimicking a javelin. She watched as he pushed his hand through her brother’s chest smoothly, piercing his heart.  
She heard him choke and cough, not understanding what had become of his body, not being able to see his own end. She found herself wishing that her eyes had been slashed instead of his. She watched as the man pulled his hand out of her little brother’s chest and wiped his blood off using his damp cloak.  
She watched, through teary eyes, as Flare Toho fell to the mucky ground without a word, and wailed when she heard his body slosh against his final resting place. Her voice sounded demonic, inhuman. Her eyes were wide with harsh awareness and agony. Her insides felt as though they were being torn apart by a hundred rabid animals, tearing each piece of her organ away slowly, until there was only emptiness left.  
Her younger brother, her solace, her hope, her only family member left…  
The one that she had taken care of for years, sacrificed so much for…  
He was dead.  
She stumbled over to him, disregarding the indifferent Akatsuki member that stood nearby. Nothing else mattered anymore. All she could feel was the deep pain that pounded against her chest, making her cry and shout. The masked man could kill her if he wanted to, but not before she reached her brother.  
Seven turned the young boy over so that he was lying on his back. She pleaded for him to keep breathing, and told him that it was not too late to save his life. The ugly, jagged gash across his eyelids prevented him from gazing up at her, but she could feel every shallow breath that left his body. Which one would be his last? How much time did she have left with him?  
Bawling uncontrollably, she touched his face gently, with a cold, calloused hand. Her other hand wandered down his chest, stopping just before his fatal wound. What was he thinking? Did he understand the gravity of the event, how much of an impact it would have on things from now on?  
“Flare!” she cried, unable to calm herself down, “Flare!”  
Did it hurt? Could he still feel how pain?  
Flare heard his sister’s voice, but could no longer speak her name with the same eagerness that she spoke his. The air was leaving his lungs quickly. His life was over, and everything felt so exhausting. The pain was beginning to fade, and he felt his body grow colder, lighter, number.  
Blackness had overtaken him when the man had slashed his eyes. Was he blind?  
He heard Seven crying for him, telling him that it was not too late to be revived. He wished that she would not give him such false hope. He wanted to believe that this was it, that there truly was no saving his life. He did not want to die harbouring hate for those that could not save him.  
He cursed his own actions, his own insanity, for ending up as a corpse on the cold, muddy forest floor. Had he retained a little of his rational mind, had he been able to think the situation through just a little more, perhaps he could have saved them. Now, they were going to die.  
He felt his sister’s hand caressing his chilled face and wanted to smile. ‘It feels just like mom’s touch,’ he thought. More than ever, Seven had always been like a mother to him. Since their parents had died when he was so young, she had taken over as his guardian. She cooked his meals, made sure that he had clothes, made sure that he was healthy and safe… Even though he was a ninja and she a civilian, she had protected him in many more ways than he had ever protected her.  
Whenever there was a monster under his bed, she had vanquished it.  
Whenever sleep terrors and nightmares plagued his sleep, she had cuddled him until they were no more.  
Whenever he cried for his parents, she had been there to wipe his tears away.  
Whenever he had gotten hurt while training, she had taken time out of her studies to heal him wholesomely.  
He wished that he could see her face, again… Just one more time. That way, she would be able to protect him from the loneliness he felt as his breathing grew shallow and his mind grew hazy.  
‘I love you, Sev,’ he thought, finally, feeling a final gust of air part from his lungs, ‘next time, I’ll protect you.’  
The masked man stared at the sorry sight before him. The girl was crying over the foolish little boy like a mother would cry over their lost child. The boy had asked for his own death. She should be cursing him for wasting his precious life and leaving her vulnerable to an enemy’s whims.  
He stepped toward her, sighing in annoyance as she wailed over the boy’s dead body. He leaned down and picked her up by the scruff of her coat, pulling her away from her little brother hastily. She screamed even louder, cursing him as her brother had done only moments ago, telling him that he would pay for the pain he had inflicted. He had heard the same speech from many victims in the past. They promised that he would suffer or burn in hell, but he was still alive and well, after several years of the same cruel deeds.  
“Shut up,” he hissed, shaking the girl menacingly, “nothing you say to me will make a difference. The boy is dead. If you don’t give me the information I want, you will be, too.”  
A lie, of course. He would kill her, regardless of whether or not she complied. The last thing he needed was a weak brat hunting him down for revenge, later.  
Her feet dangled in the air, and her hands clawed vigorously at his one. She was inexorable, unwilling to listen to anything he said with her mind so clouded in sorrow. He growled in frustration, feeling his temper spike. This woman was pushing his limit. If she refused to obey, he would be forced to give her a very slow, torturous death. She had a weak spirit and a weaker body; he was absolutely positive that she would yield to him after he tore a few of her fingernails off.  
He tossed her away from him violently, and relished in the sound of her body hitting a tree trunk. It would have made him smile uncontrollably if she had screamed, too, maybe begged for her life a little.  
Seven squeaked in both surprise and pain, but no physical sensations could compare to the agony she felt within. She glared at the masked man, teeth clenched furiously, blood and rain rushing down her face. Climbing carefully to her feet, she clutched her brother’s coat tightly to her body and leaned back against the tree.  
The Akatsuki member took an intimidating step toward her, proud that he had been able to shut her up. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he growled, “I’m looking for my partner. He wields a rather strange weapon – a triple-bladed scythe – and wears the same garb as myself. He’s not the smartest, but he’s strong – strong enough to destroy a pitiful little village like yours. Have you seen him?”  
Seven wasted no time responding, biting out her answer with as much malevolence as she could muster, “Your partner is the reason for mine and my brothers’ injuries! He invaded our house and tried to kill us for his fucked up God!”  
Pushing herself away from the tree, she started to back away from her opponent, who was only drawing closer to her. She had piqued his interest with her toxic response. She knew where Hidan was, and that was all that mattered to him.  
She gulped when she realized that he would not cease his advancement. He was dangerous. He had killed her brother, and he was coming for her, next. The least she could do was try to run away, though he would undoubtedly catch up and slaughter her within seconds. ‘Still, a moving target is better than a target that sits still.’ She tried to reason with herself.  
The Akatsuki member smirked beneath his mask. It seemed as though his navigation skills were still as exceptional as they were in his youth. He knew that the immortal had run in this direction. Now, if the girl could tell him where she had last seen his imprudent partner, he would most certainly be able to gun him down.  
He could see her shivering from where he stood. She was petrified of him, petrified of what he had done, and petrified of what he was going to do to her. He had decided that, for all the trouble she and her brother had put him through, he was going to torture her after he received his information. He needed someone to take his frustrations out on, and since Hidan was nowhere to be found, this girl would do nicely. Breaking her little fingers, one by one, would be a good place to start. Then, he could puncture a small hole in her pancreas and watch her squirm in agony. His mood was getting better just thinking about it.  
“Where did you last see him?” He asked with a hint of eagerness in his tone.  
Seven shrugged her shoulders defiantly, picking up on the deadly gaze he was directing to her, but not caring. He could do what he wanted; nothing would bring Flare back, and nothing he did to her would hurt as much.  
“He got taken down by my brother’s sensei, and he’ll deal with you, too, when he gets here,” she snarled, “we left your partner in the woods, tied up and helpless. Hopefully some vicious animal got to him before he woke up.”  
Her back hit something firm and she tensed, eyes widening and hair standing on-end. She did not know how she knew, but she knew. He was standing behind her, blocking her escape. He had managed to catch up to them, faster than either of them had expected.  
“Like some goddamn forest animals could hurt me. You’ve got to be fucking stupid.”  
The man behind her snaked and arm around her waist and gave her a good knock to the back of the head before she could even realize what was happening. Her domain went as dark as Flare’s, and she cursed herself for not considering how liable she was, alone in a forest with two Akatsuki members. She tried to fight the onslaught of blackness, but found that it was hopeless. She was done.  
Mumbling an obscenity under her breath, her body relaxed in the Jashinist’s grip. He stared down at her for a few moments, eyes devilish and smug, before cracking a triumphant grin. Finally, he had managed to subdue her; it had only taken until dawn. The way she had slumped into his arms had been perfect, a sure sign of her impending defeat.  
“Heh. Dumb bitch.” He glanced up at his partner and grinned, “Hey, Kakuzu. I owe you one for managing to corner this woman.”  
Kakuzu could care less about the priest’s explicit gratitude. The masked demon only stared furiously at his partner, “A woman? You left the rendezvous point for another one of your cheap village whores, you idiot?!”  
Hidan looked confused for a moment, processing what had just been said. Another one of his cheap village whores? Suddenly, a lightbulb turned on in his head, and he frowned at the heathen before him.  
“This isn’t just another one of my village whores, you fucking moneygrubber,” he seethed, “this is a gift from Lord Jashin. He told me to hunt her down and take her back with me.”  
Unlike the other women he had captured in the past, this one severed a true purpose; she was not just a fuck toy.  
Kakuzu had to take a few deep breaths before responding. He watched as his partner took the woman and flung her body over his shoulder rather carelessly. It was a wonder to him that the immortal valued women and his religion more than making a profit.  
Scoffing, he narrowed his abnormal eyes, “Pein will not allow you to have another woman at the base. The last one caused too much of a commotion when she managed to escape from you and Deidara. Zetsu had to intercept and kill her.”  
Hidan waved an impatient hand at the taller man, rolling his eyes childishly, “that was Deidara’s fault, not mine. Besides, I’m not keeping her at the main base this time, so Pein shouldn’t have a problem with it. And if he does, he can fuck right off.”  
Kakuzu growled lowly, not liking that he was being brushed off so casually. He wanted to rip both the woman and the Jashinist to pieces to quell his anger, but then he would have to listen to Hidan’s constant whining all the way back to the base. Staring at the girl that was draped none-too-carefully over his partner’s shoulder, the older man shook his head in disbelief.  
When it came to anything, money was the most important thing to him. No God or woman could ever change his mind. He had lost nearly one grand from Hidan’s sudden disappearance that night, and why did Hidan decide to abandon him? Because of a lowly fucking woman.  
His tanned hand twitched in his sleeve, eager to punch a hole into something – or someone.  
“…Let’s go, Hidan.” He mumbled, turning back the way he had come. He would save his anger for another time or another opponent. They could not waste any more time. Pein had called for a meeting to commence in three days’ time to discuss military strength, at an Akatsuki base that was a good four days away from their location. They would have to hurry if they wanted to make it in time.  
“That woman is only going to slow you down.” He called to the immortal, “and I will not be late to this meeting.”  
Hidan flipped his partner the bird, gritting his teeth in annoyance, “you know what, Kakuzu? Eat a dick. I have enough stamina to keep up with your ass, woman or no woman. We’ll make it in time, so do everyone a favour and calm your shit. Besides, I told you,” he patted Seven’s bottom his a lecherous hand, “she’s not just any woman.”  
Kakuzu rolled his eyes and brushed his partner off. Oh, he would calm his shit, all right. He would calm his shit after he punched a hole into Hidan’s obnoxious head.


	5. Let the Storm Descend Upon You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven awakens and Hidan is eager. Who will they meet while within the depths of the Akatsuki's outpost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.  
> Please read: Hello, all. This is a bit of a heavy chapter, so I’m going to go ahead and issue a possible trigger warning. If you aren’t comfortable reading it, don’t push yourself. All things considered, I’m very happy with this chapter. Many thanks to those who have commented and/or given me kudos.
> 
> WARNING: Violence, abuse, manipulation, non-consent, and slight recovery from non-consent.

Faint mumbling, a harsh voice rambling on about some annoyance, and relentless movement.  
Blackness.  
Bantering, growls of protest, and more movement.  
‘I… Wow. I can’t believe I’m not-‘  
Bright light, enough to melt the eyes of some subterranean monstrosity. She could not bring herself to raise her eyelids.  
The darkness crept back into her mind, blocking out the painful memories that were lingering within the recesses. When she finally managed to peel them open again, hours later, she found herself shrouded within darkness and cold air. The stench of mold and sulfur stung her smell receptors immediately, and had she possessed the willpower, she would have recoiled back into her treacherous slumber.  
Her head was throbbing, and it took her a moment to comprehend what had happened to her.  
Flare was dead. She had watched him die. His killer had thrown her across the forest, making her bones rattle. She had been knocked out by the man who had been pursuing her throughout that night, Hidan. The last thing she heard was his arrogant voice, and the last thing she had seen were opaque skies.  
She had not been killed, yet. She was slung over someone’s shoulder, her head and arms dangling carelessly toward the ground. The blood was rushing to her head, making her thoughts fuzzy and the threat of passing out again too real.  
Where was she?  
Where had he taken her?  
She had to force herself to remain calm. She wanted to jolt upright and fling herself onto the floor to escape, but she was smart enough to know when she had been beaten. Despite her tricks and fast-thinking, the Jashinist had still managed to catch up to her at the end of the night; she was no match for him and his God, a tag team that was formed within the zeniths of purgatory.  
‘Besides, he would have a better chance of harming me if I was on the ground. He’s definitely not opposed to harming women.’ She thought, morosely, appealing to her rational mind.  
Her best option was to remain still and take extra caution as to not alert her enemy to her consciousness.  
“See, what’d I tell ya’, Kakuzu? We have forty-five to spare.” Hidan’s booming voice almost made her flinch. “Looks like you bitched the entire trip for nothing.”  
Kakuzu growled in response.  
She wondered if Kakuzu was the masked man who had killed her brother. The mere thought made her blood boil. She wished that she could get a better look around.  
Silence engulfed them as they made their way to their destination. Seven took the time to examine the sparse architecture that they passed, keeping her head down as much as possible. She had been unfortunate; she had regained consciousness after they had already entered the darkness, leaving her with no way of knowing where the exit was.  
Judging by the dim light, there were torches lining the walls. They were in either an underground hideout or a dank cave. The stone walls glistened with water and mold, and the misty light was barely enough for her to make out the red clouds on Hidan’s cloak, or the red and silver scythe that was mere inches away from slicing into her face.  
‘Must be a hideout. But would he be stupid enough to take me to his hideout? There may be ninja trying to track me down; I’m sure Shikaku has already reported this. Hmm… Maybe this is just an outpost. I must be somewhere in the Land of Fire.’  
Seven had to stifle a gasp when her captor stopped moving abruptly, causing her limp body to see-saw dangerously on his shoulder. Inch by inch, a lecherous hand clawed its way across the bare flesh of her thigh and rested on her buttocks.  
She was sure he felt her flinch.  
“Hey, since we have time to spare, I’m going to go and make sure she’s nice and comfortable when she wakes up.” He snickered at his own innuendo, and if Seven had not felt the looming threat of abuse, she would have rolled her eyes incredulously. “Besides, wouldn’t want any of the others getting an eyeful of her. You’re an exception because you’re, like, asexual or something.”  
She heard the masked man’s gravelly voice tell Hidan to fuck off.  
They were moving again, but this time she felt like it was just the two of them. Slight relief washed over her soul; the last thing she needed was to fight off two robust men. ‘Though it seems like I won’t have much of a problem with the masked one. He has a temper and he’s strong, but it seems as though he doesn’t intrude into his partner’s affairs unless they directly relate to him.’  
The candles on the wall seemed to be getting brighter. Seven guessed that there were more of them concentrated in one area, or that they were near a window of some kind.  
“You’re awake, aren’t you?”  
His slick voice cut into her like barbed wire. There was a wide grin on his face, and his insane purple orbs were smiling with sick delight. He pressed his fingernails into her skin, hard enough to draw blood, and chuckled when he heard her grunt.  
She was sensitive to pain; the time that she spent by his side would be prove to be absolutely excruciating. He felt himself growing excited at the thought of her trembling in her own blood, horrified at the many ways that he was able to hurt her. He wondered if there would be enough time to teach her a quick lesson before the meeting.  
He gave her a few moments to reply, but was met with silence, much to his chagrin.  
“Giving me the silent treatment? Heh. I felt you wake up. Your breathing changed. Thinking that you can outsmart me is going to be your biggest downfall, woman!”  
His pace quickened, and she detected a hint of irascibility in his tone. Back at the house, she had learned that he got off on feeling empowered. Perhaps it was in his nature to become angry when he did not get his way. Still, Seven vowed that she would save her words for when the time came for her to justly speak; she would not waste her breath on expressions of haughtiness and false bravery.  
She lifted her head and watched as he strode quickly down a corridor with several doors on either side. ‘This is either a very large and very tricky hideout, designed to throw off intruders, or many people inhabit this maze.’ She thought. It would be exceedingly difficult to plan her eventual departure.  
Hidan scowled when he heard footsteps approaching them, unsure of the confrontation that awaited him. If it was Pein or Konan, he would have a lot of explaining to do that he had not prepared for as of yet. If it was anyone else, he would have to guard his stolen property well.  
Seven hated the fact that she was not wearing any pants, but was grateful that her brother’s jacket was still wrapped securely around her torso. Her body was shivering from the cool cave air, and she knew that someone was approaching. She wondered, vaguely, how many people had seen her private parts since the Jashinist had first exposed her. Exhaling thinly, she prepared herself for a little more dishonour.  
“We were beginning to wonder if you and Kakuzu were going to bother showing up. Isn’t that right, Master Sasori… hn.”  
Seven’s shoulders tensed at the smooth male voice that wafted through her ears, and prayed that the other Akatsuki members were not as vile as Hidan. Though she had looked at the Bingo Book with Flare once or twice, she did not recognize the name ‘Sasori’. Whoever he was, she hoped that he would have the decency to ignore her existence.  
Hidan gritted his teeth and hissed at his unfortunate luck. If there was someone he hated more than Pein and Kakuzu, it was Deidara. ‘And of all the fucking times he had to show up…’ He thought angrily, keeping a secure hand on the naked woman’s bottom.  
He stopped and waited for the pair before him to pass, stepping to the side. The last thing he wanted was for them to get a real look at his gift. Knowing that bastard explosive expert, he would try to charm the woman into his bed, just as he had with the last few. It seemed as though women were women to him, and that he was willing to insert himself into any type.  
The priest rolled his eyes and grumbled a few curse words under his breath. The situation at hand was not helping his mood.  
Long blonde hair and short messy red locks bobbed into his dim view. They stopped only metres away from him, analysing him as best as they could. Sasori’s lifeless eyes showed no interest, as per usual. However, Hidan found himself grinding his teeth together when he saw Deidara’s blue orb snap straight to the woman, inspecting all that her exposed flesh had to offer.  
“Don’t even fucking think about it, Deidara,” The priest snarled, “this one’s not for sharing.”  
Seven elected to remain quiet, her hope that the other Akatsuki members were different than Hidan completely shot out of the realm of possibility. She found herself significantly grateful that the Jashinist seemed to be opposed to passing her around for his companions’ enjoyment.  
Deidara did not seem to be phased by the albino’s harsh attitude, and smirked devilishly.  
“Where did you find this one?” He asked. “She looks cleaner than some of the other women you’ve brought back… hn.”  
“None of your fucking business, you freak.” The Jashinist spat, quickly, “Lord Jashin granted this woman to me. She’s not some street whore… So stay the fuck away!”  
Seven flinched at his wording, realizing several things at once.  
First, she was like a piece of holy property to Hidan. Second, she had some divine purpose that she needed to fulfill before he killed her, which gave her some time to devise a hasty plan. Lastly, Hidan had brought other women – whores – to the hideout, before. It sounded to her like they had been passed around to pleasure some of the other members, so they were unlikely to have been “gifts from Lord Jashin”, as Hidan would have stated. Did this mean that he would be easier on her than he had been with the other women? Would he torture her, force himself on her, and treat her like a slave, or did she rank as better than that? Seven somehow doubted it.  
Suddenly, a tuft of blonde hair was tickling her face, and a cold hand was lifting her head up by her chin. Tired orbs met with electric blue ones, and the eldest Toho could not hide the look of shock that had been splattered across her visage.  
A handsome young man, no more than twenty one, was just inches away, inspecting her face with a small smirk gracing his lips. He was a murderer; his cloak told her that. She wondered just how many people had fallen victim to his cruelty, how many young women had had their hearts broken upon realizing that he was nothing more than a manipulative brute.  
She bit her lip softly to hold back the protests that so desperately wanted to surface. She hated how he was staring at her; like a piece of meat that was ready to be purchased. He locked her eyes to his one, and stared into her irises for what seemed like a treacherous eternity. She furrowed her brows ever so slightly.  
Strange.  
She could not, for the life of her, decipher the aura that he was emitting.  
“She’s pretty… hn. Pretty enough to become art.” He spoke with a grin, finally releasing her chin and allowing her head to drop.  
She could have sworn that she had felt something wet lick her face, but deduced that it was likely a drop of moisture from a nearby stalactite.  
Somewhere behind them, Sasori sighed in exasperation, clearly disagreeing with his partner.  
“Hey, hey, hey!” Hidan bellowed, whipping around to face the blonde artist, “I thought I told you to back the fuck off! She’s sacred property, and I don’t want your filthy heathen hands all over her!”  
Seven gritted her teeth as her body bobbed uncomfortably on the foul-mouthed priest’s shoulder. The frazzled woman raised her head to reveal the identity of the third person in the room. Sasori, was it? And the other man was Deidara. None of these names were ringing a bell, and she cursed herself for it. Had she paid closer attention to the Bingo Books, she might have recognized the names and been able to correlate their known abilities.  
The auburn eyes of the redhead before her seemed dull and uninterested. His face was doll-like, almost inhuman, and judging by the way his foot was tapping impatiently against the rocky earth, she deemed that he was the type to be impatient.  
As Seven took her time analysing the irritated puppet master, Hidan expressed his tumultuous waves of anger to his fellow Akatsuki member.  
“You always let me have at least a little time with your concubines… hn.” The blonde leered, not at all startled by the intense glare he was receiving from the scythe-wielder.  
“I don’t let you do shit! You barter for my goods, you prick, but you can’t have this one. She’s mine. She’s supposed to serve a divine purpose, and I don’t want her getting tainted by your heretic ways.”  
The bomber rolled his eye. “It always has something to do with your God.” He muttered maliciously, “How many girls have you captured for your prized Jashin, now? Didn’t you say that the last one was supposed to serve some purpose, as well? You let me have her…” He grinned at the man like a sly cat, “…and she was good… hn.”  
Hidan’s brows were furrowing. He did not bother to hide his sheer disdain, but this did not deter the blonde; he had the wicked notion that he would be able to sway the Jashinist in his favour. Sighing dramatically, the artist ran a hand through his straight blonde locks. “C’mon… I haven’t had a woman in weeks. I’ve been so busy with missions that I haven’t had the time… hn.”  
Before Deidara’s eyes could slither between the woman’s legs to witness what she had to offer, Hidan positioned his hand to make sure that her womanhood was out of view. Seven found that being the captive of such a foul man was both a gift and a curse; he was generous enough as not to expose her to his comrades, but unpleasant enough to subject her to his own, forbidden cravings.  
“I told you, this one’s different,” Hidan replied gruffly, “I need her. Lord Jashin says that I do.”  
The terrorist said nothing for several moments, as if concocting the perfect reply in his head. Seven shivered from his sheer determination. Why did he have to have her? He was a handsome man. She was sure that he could obtain a partner that was far more willing than herself. Maybe he had a hard time finding women willing to sleep with a criminal. Or, perhaps it gave him a thrill. Perhaps he thought himself masculine enough to change her mind in the bedroom, turning her pleas of resistance into cries of pleasure.  
Why did some men think this way? She was utterly baffled. No meant no; yes meant yes. True struggling could not willing turn to blissful shrieks.  
‘They’re criminals,’ she had to remind herself, ‘they gave up laws and morals when they scratched out their headbands. Some of these men find rape as thoughtless and as gratifying as murder… if not a little more so.’  
Seven let her head fall against Hidan’s back, wincing as she felt one of his blades dig into her cheek. She found herself feeling hopeless, like a piece of meat that had been tossed to a pair of hungry mutts.  
Who was she kidding? She would never be able to escape; not with her impractical civilian strength. The men around her were S-ranked criminals, all with unknown abilities. Hell, even if she did know their abilities, what would she be able to do?  
In foolish truth, she had never thought that she would have to fight. Despite the murders of her parents, she had always believed that she would be safe inside her village. She had thought that as long as she knew how to heal, she would survive; she had been naïve.  
But, was it too late for her to learn, even now?  
Sasori stared at the woman with slight curiosity. At first glance, she was just a useless villager that had been captured by Hidan as a concubine. It had irked him that she had had the gall to analyse his face as she did, and it took all of his rational being to not pierce her flesh with a poisoned kunai.  
The look in her eyes told him that she had potential, regardless of whether or not she was an untrained stripling. The way her eyes had traced his wooden face made him realize that she was the type to stay dormant and submissive until her chance came. She was a thinker, raised on the pride of intelligence. She calculated her options, calculated her enemies, and used her mind to terrorize them. She was an impending threat, if she ever realized how to manipulate her captor, and if it had been anyone else but Hidan, he would have told him this. He would have told him to watch out for her ensnaring mind.  
Sighing with increased exasperation, he looked away, cursing Deidara’s insistent babbling. At this rate, they were going to be late.  
“Pein isn’t going to like that you brought another woman into the base, not since the last one nearly got away… hn.” The blonde said slowly.  
Hidan would not fall for Deidara’s tricks. He recognized that Pein was all-knowing and considered himself a God; it was likely that he already knew about the woman’s presence. Part of the upcoming meeting would probably regard his concerns about her inhabitancy.  
Shaking his head, the Jashinist smirked. “Oh, fuck off. That woman escaped because you were careless.” He waved his hand casually, as if brushing off the artist’s concerns as petty inconveniences, “I’ll deal with Pein when the time comes. Besides, this one’s not getting away. Even if she did, we’re not in the Land of Fire, anymore. There’s no one around. She wouldn’t know where the hell she was going, and we’d catch up real quick.”  
Seven’s breath hitched at this new piece of information. How long had she been unconscious? She was so far away from her home, and her navigational skills were appalling. Which direction would she run toward? What sort of animals were in this region? What was the temperature like?  
Her heartbeat was speeding up and her breathing was getting laboured. She was having an anxiety attack.   
What if she was in the Land of Wind, where the sun scotched the sand and water was scarce? If she escaped from the outpost without any supplies, she would die. And what if she ran into rabid animals or rogue ninja? The odds were not in her favour.  
Hidan released a hearty laugh, feeling Seven’s stomach rise and fall with haste. He had managed to strike fear into her guiltless little heart without even meaning to. Excellent.  
“Were you thinking of ways to escape, my little Seven?” He asked in a teasing tone, letting her name hang on his tongue to irritate her, “I swear to Jashin, you won’t escape alive. No one will find you. You’re all alone here.”  
She could feel him grinning and tried to ignore his words. The way he had said her name, as if she was nothing more than a pet, made her sick to her stomach. He was trying to psych her out, so that she would get stupid and careless. He wanted her to bite back. He wanted her anxiety to grow until she was backed into the dark recesses of her mind, with nothing but her coherent thoughts to save her from insanity.   
She chose not to reply, clamping her eyes shut and willing her teeth to stop chattering. She had to calm down. She could have an anxiety attack later, when none of her enemies were around. Right now, she had to keep a clear head.  
“Seven?” The blonde bomber whispered, as if in awe. “What a unique name… hn.”  
The woman’s head shot up in an instant, upon hearing her name spoken by another. Craning her neck to meet his face, she frowned. Who had given him the right to utter her name with such fascination? She was not entertainment. Her anger flared, and she did not even dare to look away when she noticed him staring right back at her.  
The priest turned away from his two comrades, chuckling lowly to himself. Her quivering, the way her breathing was so harsh and nervous, and the way her heart pounded against her ribcage – all of it was arousing him. The way she became so livid whenever her name was spoken, the way she was becoming so irrational, wearing her emotions f her sleeve – he needed to claim her. He had been waiting for days to do this, and now was the time.  
He did not care that she seemed to be having some sort of pissing content with Deidara, or that Deidara was plotting ways by which he could get her beneath him; all that mattered was the tension in his groin.  
Meeting or no meeting, and consent or no consent, he was going to relieve his stress.  
He heard Deidara call out to the woman, upset that she was being drawn away from him so soon; he had not even had the chance to throw any advances at her, sure that he would be able to have her begging for him.  
‘Narcissistic little shit.’ The silver-haired man thought, disgusted with Akatsuki’s youngest member. He would deal with the blonde at a later time, perhaps work out a small deal with him if he had to, just to shut him up. Perchance, if he was feeling generous, he might even allow him an hour or so with his little gift, provided he kept his clay creations away from her body.  
‘Now wouldn’t that strike fear into her fucking heart!’ He chuckled aloud at the thought of Seven, an intelligent, self-respecting young woman, being passed around to a group of S-ranked criminals. Oh, how her self-worth would plummet, and oh, how he would enjoy her tears and misperception.   
Her heartbeat was steadily going back to normal, and her breathing was stabilizing; she could not believe that she had managed to calm herself down.  
Seven raised her head so that she could gaze at the two men that they were leaving behind. Though they were getting further and further away with each of Hidan’s long strides, she could still faintly make them out. She did not like the feral look in the blonde’s eye; it told her that he was capable of losing his temper and exploding. The redhead seemed to be much more tolerable, though she knew that looks could be deceiving; he was probably just as sour as his artistic comrade.  
She could not stop a chill that ran up her spine. The men around her were intimidating. She knew well enough to keep her distance from both Hidan and Deidara, their intentions as filthy as their eyes. The redhead seemed to have a temper that flared up when he was forced to wait. There had been something about his face, too, that Seven did not like.  
Hidan’s hoarse snicker made her flinch. “Don’t tell me those two actually scared you. They’re harmless compared to me.”  
Was she getting gooseflesh from the cold, or the implication of his words? She could no longer tell.  
Down the straight, dark hallway they went, until they reached a gloomy brown door at the very end of it. Seven noticed how cold it had gotten since they had progressed further into the base. ‘We must be pretty deep underground.’ She thought, grimly.  
Twisting the knob and nearly kicking the door off of its hinges, the religious man stepped into the room and pulled her off of his shoulder. He tossed her onto the ground savagely, as if angered by something that she had done. There was a wicked shine in his eye – she did not need light to see this.  
Her internal wounds did not cause her as much pain as she had expected them to. In fact, other than the new bruise that she was sure to have on her tailbone, she could barely feel any pain at all. ‘Just how many days have I been unconscious?’ She pondered for the umpteenth time, alarmed at her physical state.  
When Hidan slammed the door shut, Seven was jerked from her thoughts. It was dark. She was cold. Worst yet, she was naked save for the heavy jacket that sat atop her shoulders. She had not thought to take a look around her before the small candle light from the hallway had diminished; she had no idea what the layout of the room was like.  
Hidan flexed his shoulder, dropped his scythe, and cracked his joints. Carrying that woman around for several days had taken a toll on his bones and muscles; he was actually quite tired. Striding over to the far side of the room, he picked up the bunch of matches he had left on the table from his last visit and lit one of the candles on the wall. The flame burned surprisingly bright, illuminating the entire room. His eyes lurched to his nervous prey. She was looking all around her, unsure of what to do. Her fear was even higher than it had been in the hallway, as if she knew what he was planning to do to her.  
Whipping her head around to stare at him, the eldest Toho managed to get to her feet with little effort, surprising herself once again. Her joints were stiff and her legs wobbled under her weight. If the priest was planning on attacking her, she was at an even worse advantage than normal. She locked eyes with him, determined to make sure that he did not disappear from her sight. If he made any sudden movements, she would speed for the door.  
‘I never imagined that I was this pathetic,’ she thought, disappointed that she could do no more than run away.  
The room was very small. From what she had seen, there was only essential furnishings within it, which gathered evidence for her idea that they were not in Akatsuki’s true hideout. There was another door on the other side of the room, where the Jashinist was standing, possibly a bathroom or a closet. There was an alter close by, as well, with a demonic statue in the middle of the display. It was a horrific sight, and she found herself wondering how many people he had sacrificed there; how many people had seen that grotesque statue before they perished?  
“Admiring your new home, bitch?” He asked almost sweetly, noticing that her eyes were frantically inspecting the room.  
Seven scowled at him, but kept up with her pact of silence.  
He took a few steps toward her, and she willed herself to take a few steps back. His legs were longer; he covered more distance than her. Before she could initiate her plan, he was upon her. Her wrist was grabbed and she was spun in the opposite direction of the door. Once in position, he pushed her back so that she was on the bed.   
He was on top of her in mere seconds, fumbling with his pants whilst trying his best to hold her flailing body down. Her legs rose to kick him wherever she could, and her arms swung relentlessly against him. She bucked her hips hard, hoping that she had enough strength to shove him away. She bit her lower lip hard, determined to hold in frustrated whimpers; he already knew that she was scared, and her weak vocalizations would only serve to egg him on.  
The albino gritted his teeth, his rage growing in waves. Having unzipped his pants, he used both of his hands to grip her forearms and slam them down on the bed, holding her legs down with his lower half.  
The woman shook her head slowly, trying to mask the fear in her eyes with anger. He did not know why, but the defiant look on her face only served to strengthen his fury.  
“Listen to me, you fucking bitch,” he snarled, moving his face close to hers. He had expected her to – hoped that she would – look away. She stood her ground, as if she did not want to give into the fear that came with his sudden assault. His sheer hate for her was growing; soon it would be uncontrollable, and he would do something that he would regret.  
“I don’t have much time before that meeting starts…” He murmured to himself, closing his eyes in frustration.  
She could feel his breath against her skin, and fought back a grimace. He was disgusting. Everything that he was planning on doing to her was disgusting. The hate that she felt for him, the death wishes that she sent his way, and the utter fury she felt for his sick actions were overpowering.  
‘He will pay for this. I swear to God, he will pay for this.’ She repeated to herself slowly, like a mantra.  
“I’m stressed the fuck out and tired as hell,” he growled, the vibrations form his voice making her body rumble, “I don’t want to deal with your shit, so let me take what I want. And don’t let me see that defiant little fucking face of yours, or I swear to Jashin…” He trailed off, but Seven understood his point.  
Still, her face did not waver. If he was going to force himself on her, and if she could not physically fight him off, she would stand mentally and emotionally truculent.  
Hidan could barely believe his eyes. Most of the other women had started out like her, with those shitty little looks of protest on their faces, but after they heard his speech and witnessed his abilities, they had accepted their fates. This woman had seen his power, she had seen his strength, yet still, she did not vacillate.  
Maybe she needed a reminder of her position.  
Rising off of her, he managed to drag her to the headboard of the bed. Since the last woman, he had installed restraints to keep his victims in line. He could hardly wait to see the look on her face when she realized that escape was inevitable.  
He locked one of her wrists into the first restraint easily, but only because she had been unaware of his intentions. After feeling the cold metal dig into her flesh, her struggling became frantic. Her eyes widened and she wriggling around like an insect. He would have laughed at her pathetic squirming if he was not so annoyed.   
“Stay still, damn it!” He hissed, finally getting a grip on her opposite wrist. After clamping that one into the restraint, as tightly as possible without breaking her bone, he grinned down at her.  
“Now what, bi-“ His cruel mocking was interrupted when her knee connected with his stomach, successfully winding him. Staggering backward, he clutched his stomach and bent over to catch his breath.  
Seven glared at him, but there was no look of triumph in her eyes. She had managed to land a luck hit, but now he knew to look out for her feet. Her fight was far from over.  
The Jashinist rose his head slowly, opening his lilac eyes to glare at his victim. There, as he advanced upon her, he truly looked demonic. She felt her body quake, but willed herself to endure.  
He would not kill her; not yet. She still had time. The worst he could do was hurt her.  
Still, that horrendous look in his eyes made her hair stand on-end. It was different than before, more rabid. Before she knew what she was doing, her lips parted.  
“Stay away from me.” She whispered.  
Hidan cracked a feral grin, the whites of his eyes looking bloodshot and his pupils dilating. “Finally cut the shit, huh? Am I worthy enough for words, now, when you know I’m about to hurt you?”  
He was insane.  
She had made something within him snap.  
She struggled vigorously against the restraints, hoping that one or both of them would give. She had to get away from him. There was no denying the recklessness that was laced into his voice. Her fear was taking over and her soul could no longer equate with peace. Yanking at her bindings with all her might, Seven yelped when she felt his nails dig into her upper thigh. She made to kick him in the face, praying that he would fall for the same trick twice. He easily caught her foot and tossed it aside, climbing onto the mattress and settling himself on top of her.  
Grabbing a fistful of her hair, she felt a cold metal collar clasp tightly around her neck, binding her head to the headboard. She watched with trepidation as he removed himself from his pants and brushed against her entrance. It was too late to close her legs. It was too late to plead for herself. He was about to take everything away from her, in one foul thrust.  
“You a virgin?” He asked, wanting very much for her to nod her head.  
Seven only gazed up at him, her mouth slightly agape, as if she was trying to force herself to be silent. She was not a virgin; she had not been a virgin in years. Still, she did not want her womanhood tarnished with rape. He was about to dehumanize her, to make her feel as though she was anything but strong.  
“I’m… No. Stop.”  
“Not a virgin?” Hidan asked, with a hint of disappointment. That was a shame. He would have enjoyed taking the woman and altering her world. The damage would have been greater if she had been innocent.  
Oh well. It did not matter that much.  
He inched his way into her womanhood, relishing in the feeling of her walls squeezing him, wanting him out. The last time, he had only managed to get halfway inside of her before she had tricked him. This time, she could do nothing but lay there and take it.  
When he was all the way inside of her, he grunted softly, stilling himself to cherish how good she felt. The look on her face was priceless. Her skin had grown about two shades paler, and her eyes were slowly losing their colour. She was finally realizing just how much damage he was capable of inflicting. He had no doubt that she would start to scream before he was done with her.  
“Fuck,” He moaned, “for a slut, you’re pretty fucking tight.”  
Seven was in pain. She had not been prepared at all; her womanhood had been wholly dry. He had not cared to even try and prepare her, but perhaps that was for the best; she did not want him to think that she was enjoying such a retched act with him.   
She grunted and reeled her head to the side, determined to not make eye contact with the man atop her. She felt nauseous. A small part of her wished that she would throw up; surely no man would be able to maintain an erection when their partner was vomiting. Her stomach churned at the mere thought of such a mess, and she had to swallow uneasily. Her legs felt heavy, as if there were one hundred kilogram weights on each of them. She found that she could not lift them, could not jerk them, and could not even feel them. Was she going into a state of shock?  
When she felt him move in and out of her unprepared haven, she began to tremble. Her arms jittered within their cuffs, and she could feel the collar digging into her neck as she unconsciously tried to slip away from him. This was too real, too painful.  
The Jashinist kept up his wondrously slow pace, lolling his head back in ecstasy. He loved how she looked beneath him, how he fit so well over her body. The dreadful awareness that she was being taken against her will mixed well with his aura, and he enjoy watching the multitude of facial expressions weave across her face. He choked back a groan and picked up his pace.  
Seven clawed at her restraints when she felt him go faster. He was hitting her cervix hard, making her grit her teeth in agony. She prayed that this torture would be over soon, so that she could begin to prepare for the next outrageous act that he had in store for her. Was this what her life was to be, continuously preparing her body for endless abuse and unexpected moments of excruciating shame?  
“Fuck,” she hissed. Though her eyes were closed tightly, she could feel his predatorial grin burning into her face. He was drinking every emotion that she displayed, getting off on how much she hated him.  
When he finally came, he pulled himself out of her and spattered his fluids onto her abdomen, cursing quietly to himself. The woman was shocked that he had even bothered to use any type of birth control method. Or, perhaps he just liked to see his women coated in semen. Regardless, she was at least grateful that he had decided against relieving himself within her; it eased her mind to know that pregnancy was unlikely in the conceivable future.  
He sat propped above her for several moments, panting heavily, pouring his breath onto her sweat-drenched visage. Seven cracked her eyes open to stare up at him, allowing the hate that she felt to overcome her fear. She imagined the many ways that she could exact her revenge, and the many ways by which she could destroy him. The fire that burned within her soul was ready to consume her – ready to consume him, for all he had done.  
He had destroyed her family’s home.  
He had assaulted both her and her younger brother.  
Her younger brother – the last family member that she had – was killed because of him.  
Now, he had raped her, taking her last bit of pride and virtue, defiling her individuality and tainting her body.  
This man was no priest; he was a goddamn hellion, a complete waste of flesh.  
And god, how she wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze until he stopped breathing for good. If she was ever given a good chance to destroy him, not even Jashin would be able to stop her. He would be condemned for his wrongdoings by her hand, and his last breath would be of her victorious face.  
She wondered how many of his other victims had had these thoughts. She wondered how many had been chained to his bed, forced to relive their trauma dozens of times over. When push came to shove, she was just as vulnerable as they had been; just as doomed. What could she accomplish that they did not? She was not a ninja, nor was she trained to control her chakra. She only knew a few self-defence moves. She did not have the talent for picking locks, finding her way out of restraints, or using physical strength to overcome imprisonment. Even when it came to direction, she was easily thwarted.  
Negativity was overwhelming her, once again. This time, however, something within her snapped.  
‘What are am I really going to accomplish, sitting here and moping about uncontrollable events?’ She asked herself, harshly. ‘I can’t let my anger, fear, or self-pity stun me. I need a clear mind. I need to…’ She paused, refraining from thinking the next few thoughts that lingered inside her rational mind.  
Could she? Would she? Was there any other choice…? She gulped unconsciously. She could. She would. There was nothing else that she could do, if she wanted to come out on top. The remainder of her journey would not be without suffering and scarification, but she would prepare herself for the worst possible outcome; that way, there would be fewer things able to faze her when the time arrived.  
‘…I need to start training if I want to get out of here.’  
Hidan lifted himself off of her slowly, still catching his breath. He tucked his manhood back into his pants and gazed at his victim. Her cheeks were flushed, though the rest of her body was as pale as the moon. She did not look at him. She did not move at all. Her eyes were casted downward, as if she was in deep thought. The look on her face was unreadable.  
He picked up a discarded rag from the other side of the room and moved toward her. If there was one thing he hated the most, it was filth. Blood was a beautiful, sacred thing, but semen was expelled from the body due to necessity; it would not do to have his prisoner dirtying his bedsheets.  
The Jashinist placed his toweled hand against her skin and watched as she flinched, snapping from her thoughts and causing her to glance down at him. The vague look on her face was replaced with anger, frustration, fear, and… determination?  
Was he seeing correctly?  
Had he not just humiliated her, forced her body to bend to his advances against her volition, and taken a piece of her sanity?  
He grinded his teeth together furiously. He did not understand why that look made him so infuriated, but he was determined to do whatever it took to wipe it from her face. She would only ever be able to regard him with fear; he would prove to be an unpredictable master who lacked tolerance for anything outside of his norm.  
He tossed the dirty rag behind him when he was done and took advantage of the way Seven’s legs were spread. She gasped as he stuck two of his digits into her opening, probing as far as he could. He felt her clench around him and grinned, misconstruing the act for arousal. Removing his fingers, he brought them up to his face for closer inspection. Seven felt the need to vomit, again, when she saw her fluids coating them.  
He smirked cruelly at how she nibbled her lower lip in frustration.  
“And here I thought you weren’t enjoying yourself,” he cackled, standing upright and stepping back to take a better look at her.  
Seven growled lowly, narrowing her eyes at the repulsive man. Was he stupid, or was he just trying to get to her? Probably both. Did he truly believe that the fluids on his fingers were a result of her enjoyment? Her body had produced lubrication for his penis because her chasm had been too dry for him to thrust comfortably; it was an evolutionary mechanism. She had not enjoyed herself, but he was surely trying to make her feel as if she had.  
Once again, she wondered how many women had believed him, trusting in his poisonous words. How many had battled with themselves, thinking that they had enjoyed his actions, and how many had learned to enjoy his touch as a result of his mental manipulation?  
Just as he was about to jab at her mental state further, there was a firm knock at the door. Both of them froze and craned their necks to stare at the distraction. Seven felt her skin begin to crawl. How much danger would befall her when Hidan opened that door? Who would be standing there, and what would they want?  
She did her best to stomp out her paranoia as she watched the religious fanatic twist the doorknob and throw open the door.  
“You’re late.” Kakuzu’s gruff voice echoed throughout the room and the long hallway beyond it. His eyes were wrathful, and his clenched fists suggested that he was not in the mood to deal with his partner’s antics.  
Hidan seemed unsurprised to see the taller man. He had known that Pein would send Kakuzu to fetch him due to his tardiness. Releasing a hoarse chuckle, the silver-crowned man grinned. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”  
Almost flabbergasted at the albino’s willingness, Kakuzu said nothing and began to walk away. Hidan stepped out of the room and ran a hand through his shaky locks. Casting a quick glance back at the woman shackled to his bed, he winked slyly, “Behave yourself, woman. I’ll be back soon, and then we can have some more fun.”  
As the door closed him, Hidan jogged to catch up with the ex-Waterfall ninja. Sighed, he posed a question, “Is this meeting as pointless as the last one, or has Pein finally decided to mobilize us?”  
Kakuzu sighed at the other man’s stupidity. The time had not yet come for them to begin their initial plan, but that did not mean that their efforts and missions had been pointless. “Anita Seagrave, a rather generous woman from the Cloud Village, has offered her financial assistance to us. I’m sure there’s a catch. Still, an interesting topic of discussion.”  
Hidan rolled his eyes, clearly disinterested, “Of course you’d find that shit interesting, you money-grubbing piece of shit. What does this have to do with me, anyways? I don’t give a fuck about money.”  
Kakuzu had to bite his tongue and hold back his growing anger; it would not do to enter the meeting with a clouded head. Pein needed him to make a clear financial judgement regarding the matter at hand. “The money will benefit us in the long run. We can use it as a bargaining chip. Many people will turn a blind eye to our actions if they are offered enough money.”  
Hidan did not follow anything that the masked man was saying, nor did he truly care about the advancement of the organization. The Akatsuki had offered him their protection as long as he remained loyal to them; that was all he needed to keep up with his sacrifices. Whatever they wanted to do with their finances was none of his concern.  
Throughout the meeting, the Jashinist occupied himself with new ways to torture his latest gift. Oh, how he was ever so eager to return to his room.


	6. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pein speaks about Akatsuki business and sends two members off to strike a deal with a devious clan. Afterward, Pein warns Hidan to not underestimate Seven. Brushing off his mock-leader's pitiful advice, Hidan is determined to break his captive before dawn arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Please read: I’m really happy with the reception of this story. Since physical violence, sexual violence, and trauma recovery are very big and very complicated issues to depict using writing, I was worried about whether or not I did an accurate job.
> 
> WARNING: Violence, abuse, manipulation, trauma aftermath, and some non-consent.

“The Seagrave clan has roved from land to land. They originated in the Mist Village, but fled when rumors surfaced that they were carrying out assassination orders.”  
Though he was smart enough to determine that Anita Seagrave and her infamous clan were not generous enough to share their fortune with them for free, Pein was eager to accumulate the opinions of the other members. Of course, most of them would comprehend that the proposition was nothing more than a silly trap; he had insisted that they gather only the most competent criminals, after all. Nevertheless, the devious Obito Uchiha had wanted to deduce their reasoning skills and overall intelligence for himself.  
“I want to see the effort that we have put into building this organization,” he had said, his single Sharingan eye boring heavily into his head of shaggy red hair, “I want to see how proficient our foot soldiers are.”  
The pierced man gazed at each of the Akatsuki members, drinking their expressions slowly, carefully. His sharp gaze nearly swallowed Hidan whole, though the priest was smart enough to act as though he was not the slightest bit intimidated.  
Each of the members sat casually at the rectangular table, with their supposed orange-crowned leader at the head. Konan sat closest to her old confidante, eyes closed and face as calm as a summer sea. Across from her was Zetsu, who seemed to be staring into spare, and next to him was a rather disinterested Itachi. Across from Itachi sat Kisame, who had been grinning like a Cheshire cat upon entering the room. Sasori sat nearby, tweaking a few of the poison valves on a puppet, and Deidara sat adjacent, creating small clay creations and occupying his mind with Hidan’s latest fancy. Kakuzu looked about as enticed as Kisame, and Hidan was already rolling his eyes in frustration.  
Somewhere behind them, Pein could feel the mighty Uchiha listening in on their conversation, gauging everyone’s reactions, so that he could determine which members would be the best fit to carry out each of his dastardly tasks.  
Kisame snickered softly, clearly amused that their patron had once dwelled within his village, “She is wealthy, and would be a powerful client to have on our side. If she truly has chosen to contribute her family’s fortune to our goals, then she must expect something in return. But what do you suppose she wishes of us…?” Instead of looking worried, the blue-skinned man bore the expression of someone who was excited. His tone was sly, suggesting that he had a few ideas of what the woman desired from the vile organization of which he belonged to.  
“She has requested our services in return for her fortune,” Pein explained, simply.  
“It’s a tempting offer, but rather translucent.” Sasori chimed in, his cold, dead eyes staring down at his latest masterpiece. “If the Seagrave clan are renowned assassins, perhaps someone has hired them to lure us into a trap.”   
Kakuzu nodded quickly, “Agreed. From what I’ve heard, the Seagrave clan has finally settled in the Hidden Cloud Village. Someone as powerful as the Raikage, himself, could have influenced them.”  
“The Akatsuki has been gaining more popularity, as of recently. Master Sasori, do you have any spies in the Hidden Cloud Village… hmn?”  
The redhead was quick to shake his head. “Do you think we would even be having this conversation if I did, you idiot?” He snapped.  
Kisame leaned forward, pressing his elbows against the table. There was a rather grand grin on his face, portraying his thirst for a good fight. “I don’t really care if the money is real or not. I’m just interested in seeing what those Seagrave whelps are made of.”  
The shark-like man turned to Pein eagerly, “Let me go and check them out. I haven’t had a decent battle in a while.”  
The leader of the table shook his head. It had never been his intention to send the ferocious Kisame to scope out the situation. He needed someone who could be calm, calculative, and collected during surprising situations. “No. I have another mission for you and Itachi. I will send Sasori and Deidara.”  
“And what if it’s a trap?” Kakuzu inquired. Truth be told, the masked man had wanted to go. He was confident that, regardless of the nature of the situation, he would prevail for the organization. He was strong enough to take on several ninja at once, with or without his daft partner.  
Deidara scoffed arrogantly at Kakuzu. “You underestimate me… hmn. If it’s a trap, I’ll turn them all into art.”  
Sasori rolled his eyes at his partner’s ignorance, sighing rather loudly. He was sure that Pein had his reasons for choosing them to go on the mission, but he found it odd that the most financially-conscious member of the Akatsuki was sitting this one out. Surely the stitched man was capable enough to handle himself. Perhaps Pein was worried about his overactive temper, or Hidan going ballistic.  
“If it is a trap, it will still be beneficial to the Akatsuki,” Pein said, “Killing a member or several members of the Seagrave clan will set an example and draw more awareness toward us. We will be seen as a threat by more and more villagers, and mercenary work will become more plentiful.”  
Kakuzu crossed his arms over his chest and grunted. He could not argue with Pein’s logic; he was absolutely correct. Regardless of whether or not the promised money was legitimate, they would gain funds in the long run, anyway.  
“Fine,” he muttered, “but, assuming it is a trap and the clan has planned an ambush, try not to destroy their bodies. We can make a healthy sum on the corpses of the Seagrave family.”  
“Can’t make any promises…” Sasori growled, glaring at his blonde acquaintance.  
Before any more arguments could break out between the group members, Pein rose from his seat. He could no longer sense Obito nearby, suggesting that he had gathered what information he had desired, and was off to plot by his lonesome.  
“Sasori and Deidara will take the mission,” He said, finitely, eyeing the pair, “I will give you the coordinates of the meeting place by tomorrow morning, when you will be leaving. Kill anyone who gets in the way of our current goals.”  
The duo nodded slowly, neither of them looking forward to the long journey that was ahead of them. Pein’s eyes wandered to Itachi and Kisame, next. Still in a foul mood from not getting his way, Kisame gritted his teeth boldly at their leader.  
“I want the two of you to scope out the Hidden Leaf Village, this time without being detected. With Itachi’s vast knowledge of the village and its perimeters, I trust that this should not be an issue.”  
“It will not.” Itachi replied, eyes closed, as if he were contemplating. Kisame elected for silence, deciding against challenging the orange-crowned man’s decision.  
“Excellent.” Pein turned back to stare at each and every member at the table, spending an extra few moments on Hidan. Though the priest did not look back at him, he was well aware of his sharp gaze.  
“Meeting adjourned.”  
As everyone began to rise from their seats and shuffle out of the chamber, the orange-haired man was shocked to see that Hidan was the only one who had remained; even Konan had disappeared to pursue her own activities. The pair stared at each other for what seemed like aeons, and when Hidan did not buckle, Pein could do nothing more than close his eyes at the Jashinist’s insolence.  
“I did not expect you to stay. You are the type to run away from your problems.” He stated, sure that his words would elicit some form of inner anger from his consociate.  
The albino rolled his eyes exasperatedly, knowing that by confronting their leader, he had signed up for a barrage of insults. He bit back the urge to tell the man to fuck off.  
“Whatever. I know you know about the woman, so let’s just get this over with. I’m not getting rid of her.” He said.  
Pein was quick to retaliate, “The last woman you brought to our base would have escaped if not for Zetsu. Do you understand how much destruction she could have brought to our organization, had she gotten away alive?”  
Hidan laughed mockingly and shook his head, “That woman didn’t know shit. She knew our names and our faces, but she had no idea of our abilities or our plans.”  
Pein took a moment to consider this, despising that Hidan was at least partially correct. It was true that not much had been revealed to her, but even their names and faces were valuable pieces of information for villages looking to nip their organization in the bud. They were able to walk around in public because their faces and garb were not popular enough to have them spotted; they were able to get various daily tasks done without having to use disguises. Had the woman gotten away and spread word of their faces and uniforms, they would have been recognized by villagers sooner than he and Obito would have preferred.  
“And what of the coordinates of our hideout?” He asked, finally, “She would have led groups of powerful ninja to us for revenge, after what you two did to her.”  
The man still remembered how bruised and bloody the woman had been, cringing at the mere touch of another human. They had ruined her body and her mind, and he had no doubt that she would have sought them out for payback, had she successfully fled. This woman would be no different.  
Hidan shrugged carelessly, “Yeah, but she didn’t. Besides, this woman will be kept at this outpost. Even if she does manage to escape, which she fucking won’t, we can afford to abandon this shithole. No one ever comes here, anyway.”  
Pein resisted to urge to drive one of his pikes through the immortal’s face. He believed his logic to be flawless, and he had faith that the woman would not escape alive, despite his recent history. Furthermore, he insisted that they could simply abandon their outpost if the woman did manage to flee. He did not understand the hard work that had gone into creating the Akatsuki.  
“You fool,” The mock-leader grumbled, “it has not been an easy task to acquire outposts which are hidden and out of the way of wanderers. Sacrificing one when we have not even commenced our main goal would be preposterous.”  
Hidan let out a small, nervous chuckle, realizing that things were not going very smoothly; he had never been good with words. He had truly believed that his logic had been sound enough for their leader to be at peace and allow him his treasure; t appeared that he would have to think harder about his case.  
“Listen,“ he instigated, “she’s not going to get away, and if she does, I’ll be the first to know about it. She’s connected to Lord Jashin, and He told me of her whereabouts when I hunted her down. She’s useful to Him, and to me. As long as I keep her restrained, I don’t think we’ll have a problem with her, okay?”  
Pein contemplated the words, rolling them over in his head several times before reaching a conclusion. She was connected to his Lord, who informed him of her location. She was chained in his quarters. Like the other women, she was probably not a ninja. Though most evidence pointed toward the fact that it would be damn near impossible for her to liberate herself, he still felt unsettled.  
Hidan continued to speak, hoping that he would be able to sway the pierced man, “If she’s ever out of my sight, she’ll be chained to my bed. On top of that, she’s weak as fuck. She can’t do much more than heal, and she runs out of chakra before long.”  
Chained to his bed? Had he not just stated that Jashin wanted to utilize this woman? What set her apart from his other women, if he was using her body as he had used theirs, and was mentally torturing her as he had them?  
Though he had already understood that the religious man before him was as disgusting as they came, Pein still struggled to wrap his head around his actions. There was no doubt that he was conducting these sacrifices and torture sessions as per his God, but was there also a part of him that found ecstasy in such brutal things? Judging by the look on his face, the Rinnegan-user believed that he did.  
Pein’s eyes narrowed. If Hidan truly insisted on keeping this woman as his pet, he could only advise him to take as many precautions as possible. He failed to understand why rape and torture enticed some of his men, though he could do nothing to stop them. As long as it did not impede on the Akatsuki’s goals, it was none of his business. While recruiting, he had told each of the members this, and promised them protection; he had no right to hinder them in regards to their personal activities.  
“If she is to stay here, she must have her chakra suppressed. If she moves to escape, she will be killed immediately.”  
Hidan smirked, “Yeah, yeah, I’m not stupid. If she manages to get away, I’ll kill her myself.”  
“Do not let this woman get in the way of our goals.”  
The immortal snorted and held up his hands in defense. His lips had curled into a daunting smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

\--------------

Hidan shoved open the door of the meeting room, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched in a cold grimace. The good mood that Seven had given him was gone, as was the high he had felt from releasing the tension in his groin.  
“Fuck,” He grumbled, “leave it to that fucker to put me in a bad mood.”  
Though, he considered himself a very fortunate man. Back in his room, waiting to be subjected to his touches, yet again, was an attractive, unwilling woman. There was no doubt in his mind; she would have just the thing to put a skip back into his step, and send him off to sleep like a baby.  
“Hidan, listen to me,” The voice nearly made him stop dead in his tracks. Had he not been used to hearing the voice of his beloved deity, he surely would have been jostled.  
“Yes, Lord Jashin?” He answered to himself, keeping a steady pace and ensuring that no one unwanted was around to snoop.  
“I have given this woman to you to serve a divine purpose. She is not to be killed and her life must not be put into danger. Ensure that you heed these rules.”  
Hidan had not planned to do any permanent harm to her without consulting his Lord, regardless of the way she made his temper flare; Jashin was not a forgiving God. He nodded solemnly, without any further comment.  
“You may use her for whatever purposes you have, though, ensure that you do not bring her to the point of insanity, as I have seen you do to other women.”  
“Yes, Lord Jashin.” The priest murmured, “But, when will I be able to sacrifice her? This woman is a disrespectful heathen. She looks at me like she’s higher than me, even after I’ve humiliated her. I can’t wait for the day where I get to pierce her heart and send her to you.”  
Jashin chuckled darkly at the sadistic thoughts of the albino; he had certainly chosen the correct follower for his plans.  
“I will inform you when the time has come. Be alert and ready to heed my orders, as her sacrifice shall be unique.” The deity said, His voice rumbling through Hidan’s thoughts like dry thunder above an open field.  
Though he should have been, the worshipper was not satisfied with his Idol’s response. True fear would be to sacrifice her; true fear would be for him to promise her a date for her death. Though she did her best to show him that she cared little for her life now that her brother was gone, the Jashinist knew that it was a farce. Seven Toho cared about living, even if she only lived for revenge.  
“Lord Jashin, one last thing,” he whispered, a wicked grin wafting across his mouth, “what can you tell me about this woman? I want to use everything I can to break her.”  
Jashin was silent for so long, that Hidan had begun to assume that their connection had been obstructed.  
“So, you plan to torture her using words?” His almighty voice hissed, a great amount of pleasure laced into its tone. “This is a new method.”  
Hidan was familiar with the amount of force needed to break a regular street whore. Hell, even a simple village woman. However, after taking advantage of Seven and watching the fire of determination flicker in her resilient orbs, he knew that even a great amount of physical punishment would not do the job, this time around.  
He had never been good with his words. Back in his old village, he had been jeered at by his comrades for lacking persuasive skills. Of course, they could criticize him no more after being sliced to ribbons. Still, in recent years with the Akatsuki, he understood that he truly did need to work on his communication abilities.  
And Seven would be the perfect motivation.  
He chuckled softly to himself, “Well whaddya know… That bitch is already making herself useful.”  
Being able to manipulate and persuade his foes would make his sacrifices and brutal torture sessions easier. The women he would abduct would bend to him quicker, would give into him quicker, and would doubt themselves earlier.  
“Lord Jashin, please tell me anything you know about her.”  
And the celestial deity had planned to do just that.  
“Seven Toho. Nineteen years old. Named after her parents’ famous work on a healing prototype, as seven doses of the elixir have been said to cure even the worst of ailments. Though, the prototype was lost when they were murdered.”  
Hidan licked his lips mercilessly. So, her parents had been murdered, had they? That was definitely something that he could use against her.  
“Flare Toho, her brother, was brutally killed by your partner. You must have seen the state that his body was in.”  
The Jashinist had a flashback, imagining the body lying dead in the mud. There was a gash across his eyes, which had probably blinded him; he probably had not even known what hit him. How had Seven reacted to his death? He had only caught the end of it. She had probably been devastated, blaming herself for not being able to fight. ‘Fucking delicious!’  
Jashin continued, “The boy was the only family that she had left. She feels guilty. She is lost without him. Her will to live is but a dull ember, but you must not let her die. You must not give her that solace, as she has not earned the right to be touched by my embrace.”  
Hidan was nodding breathlessly, finally beginning to understand why she had been thrusted into his care, finally excited to be her charge for as long as his Lord wished him to be.  
“Yes, my Lord! I understand! She must be educated, she must accept you!”  
“Beware, Hidan. Your task shall not be easy. She is intelligent. She is analytical and bold. She will do what it takes to survive, if you do not show her the true purpose in which she must serve.   
“To accept you, she must accept me, and to accept me, you must show her true terror. Do what you must, my faithful follower. Introduce her to my ways, to the ways of a Jashinist, until she can take no more. Degrade her, a powerful woman; show her that she is nothing but filth. Then, give her the means to grow and become more than an insect.”  
“Yes… Yes! I know exactly what I’m going to do to the bitch…” He exclaimed, biting his lower lip to repress an enthusiastic snicker.  
“What are you prattling on about, now?”  
The voice shook him from his celestial conversation, and he felt the touch of Jashin fade from his mind. Blinking a few times to shake the blur that was left behind by his almighty deity, Hidan was not surprised to see Sasori staring at him disdainfully. How long had he been standing there?   
Clutching his head tiredly, the immortal clenched his teeth in frustration. This was not the first time that the puppet master had disrupted him, nor would it be the last.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed, the irritation that he had felt while arguing with Pein resurfacing vehemently.  
Sasori rolled his eyes, acting as though the Jashinist had just uttered the stupidest thing he had ever heard. “This is Akatsuki’s outpost. Where else would I be?”  
Hidan despised the puppeteers overall negative attitude toward everything, though he certainly understood it. He supposed that being a chunk of wood, devoid of any tactile stimulation and human urges, had its downfalls.  
His eyes jerked to slight movement that surfaced just behind Sasori, and he could not repress an exaggerated groan when his lavender eyes fell of a tall head of blonde.  
‘Great,’ the priest thought, ‘not one, but two assholes.’  
Sasori continued to glare at Hidan for what seemed like aeons, never blinking and not daring to budge an inch. He could tell that the immortal was distressed. The last time he had looked this tired and this stressed out, Kisame had nearly gotten his left arm torn off for making a wise crack about religion. For the time being, though he hated to admit it, the redhead believed that silence would be his best and healthiest option. His best puppet had been damaged in his previous battle, something he would have to fix by the time they left tomorrow; he could not afford to get into a tiff with the silver-crowned madman.  
Following his sharp gaze, Sasori was amused to see that his partner was accumulating most of his attention. For not the first time in his life, he found that he was feeling grateful that he could no longer feel the strings of lust tug at his heart and loins; two men fighting over a woman was petty, at most, but at least the bloodlust that brimmed in Hidan’s eyes was not directed at him.  
Deidara stared at his rival with a sharp blue eye, analysing his laboured breathing and the way his hands clenched and unclenched at random intervals; he looked like he was about ready to snap. Offhandedly, the explosive expert wondered if Seven had ever seen him unleash his rage, unfiltered and unconstrained.  
‘She’d probably be dead by now if she had,’ he deduced, resisting the urge to chuckle darkly, ‘and if he goes back to that room when he’s like this, Jashin’s order or not, she’s done for.’  
Perhaps it was best to keep him distracted; he certainly did not want anything to happen to the woman before he had his way with her. He did not know when he would have the chance to take another woman, what with this sudden mission and all. If all turned sour with the Seagrave woman, he could most definitely have his fun with her.  
As they had been heading back to their quarters to salvage what little time they had to relax for the night, Konan had approached them with a small photo of their target. She was a beautiful young lady with a fine mix of brown and blonde hair, high, aristocratic cheekbones, and a deadly smile. Deidara thought any man lucky to have the privilege of accompanying her to bed.  
‘Still,’ he thought, his mind lingering on Hidan’s latest prize, ‘it would be nice to have a little pleasure in the meantime.’  
The priest must have noticed the strange look in his eye, or perhaps his facial expression was utterly transparent, revealing his true intentions, for he pointed an accusing finger at him and scowled.  
“Listen, you fucking freak,” he started, noticing to his dismay that the young bomber was barely intimidated by his fury, “if I let you have her every once in a while, I don’t want you thinking that I’m sharing her with you. If I let you have the bitch, it’s to teach her a lesson in respect, and to shatter any self-esteem she has left. You got that?”  
Deidara grinned boyishly, nodding with anticipation. He knew that Hidan would crack and allow him to take his woman for a night; he always did. This time, however, he looked like he had something special in mind for his little slave; perhaps she truly was different from the rest.  
“And I don’t want your explosive shit anywhere near her! I need her to be in one piece and at least partially unharmed, and I remember what you did to that one woman who pissed you off.”  
The artist rolled his eyes at that last comment. He may or may not have blown up one of their women after she had insulted both his masculinity and his art, but he had made it very clear to the last two women that he would not tolerate such things from them. As long as everyone understood their place, there would be no need for explosives.  
“So you’ll let me have her… hn?”  
Hidan looked at the man as though he had grown an extra head.  
“No, not have her. But you can borrow her for a bit.”  
The immortal was already walking away, beckoning for the younger man to follow suit. Sasori watched as his partner walked quickly to catch up with the scythe master, noting the eagerness that went into each of his steps.  
“What a waste of time…” He muttered, unable to comprehend what made his companions so eager to ravage women. Sure, stress relief was one thing, but for pleasure? Maybe he had been too young when he had transformed himself into excellence; maybe he should have waited a few more years, experienced the few pleasures that imperfect humanity had to offer.  
The redhead sighed softly. Ah, well. As far as he was concerned, sex was just a waste of time and energy; he had puppets to repair.  
Hidan grinned when he detected Deidara walking beside him, hunger evident on his face. Out of all of the other Akatsuki members, Deidara was the best fit for this task. He had the thirst for pleasure, the morals low enough to take a woman against her will, and the intimidation to make her self-worth shrink.  
“She needs to be degraded,” he started, “Like I said, she’s not like the other whores I’ve brought back. She’s a respectable woman, a smart woman. Treating her like nothing more than a piece of ass is bound to show her her place. Get it?”  
Oh, he got it. Hidan could tell by the sick smirk on his lips that he understood exactly what he would be doing to his latest victim. As much as he hated to admit it, Deidara could be even more disturbing than him in bed, particularly with unruly women. As long as she did not flare his temper to the point where he got fed up and blew her to bits, everything would be fine.  
‘I guess I’d better stay in the room with them. Just in case this uppity fucker decides to get fired up.’ He thought, rubbing his chin in consideration.  
Yes. Remaining in the room while his comrade went about his business and scarred the defenseless Toho even further was a good option. Normalizing what was being done to her, and even watching her get ravished, was sure to add to her humiliation. He chuckled softly to himself, enjoying his darkened state of mind.  
“Do your worst, just don’t-.”  
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. No explosives… hn.”  
He could work with that. It was just the one woman that he had turned into art, and he had more of a lid on his temper, nowadays; spending several weeks in a row with the deadly Sasori had forced him to adapt a calmer attitude toward others. The girl would be no issue, even if she did act up. He would control himself.  
With every year that passed after joining the Akatsuki, his heart had grown darker and darker, to the point where he was not opposed to doing anything to anyone. He could vaguely recall the boy he had been, back in Iwagakure. There had always been an air of cockiness to him; perhaps that was why Onoki had been so hard on him. Aside from that, he had always aspired to create true artistic splendour, and his passion for explosives had never dwindled. Though, he had never truly wanted to hurt anyone… until he finally had. His first explosion – his first kill with his artwork. He remembered it so well. So much blood, the stench of fear, and then silence.  
After that, he could not get enough. More and more, he grew to become a repulsive criminal who took what he wanted from everyone, and never hesitated to end a life.  
The Akatsuki had shaped him in to a true man.  
“I’m looking forward to this,” the bomber murmured, unable to hide his anticipation, “I needed a stress reliever. Travelling with Master Sasori is rough… hn.”

\--------------

Her mind could not stop racing.  
So many things had happened since she had first met the crazed Jashinist, all of them negative. There was an enormous amount of trauma to cope with, and several scenes to reply over and over in her head.  
Flare was dead. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself that he was somehow still alive, dwelling somewhere within the forest, she knew the truth. What’s more, she had allowed one of his killers to rape her, without putting up much of a fight.  
She was useless.  
She was nothing more than garbage.  
If anyone deserved to be dead, it was her.  
‘…I just let him do it. I should have struggled harder. I should have made myself unattainable and stubborn; that way, he would have given up.’  
It was her fault, and no one could tell her otherwise.  
‘This happened because of my own stupidity. Now I have to deal with it. I have no right to complain.’  
She was the cause of her brother’s death, and she was the cause of her other misfortunes, too. Her, and no one else.  
‘I deserved it all. This is what I get for causing so much trouble and being too weak and selfish to save my brother. I got myself into this.’  
And yet, she still did not want to die. Something within her was giving her a small bit of strength, telling her to continue with her survival efforts. The voice within her, kind and endearing, whispered contradictions to her soul.  
This is not your fault. It is his.  
You did not ask for it. It was thrusted upon you, unwillingly.  
You did not deserve this. No one does.  
You did not kill Flare. They did.  
She laid on the bed, unmoving, hating the feeling of her tears wetting her face and rolling into her hair. She was stronger than this, was she not? She had never been the type to wallow in her sorrows for long, and yet, here she was. She had always been the one to comfort others, especially her dear little brother. Not once had she ever felt this useless, this powerless, and this pathetic.  
The soft voice whispered unto her, again: Sometimes it is necessary to expel your pain, lest it moves to consume you. No one can be silent and strong all of the time.  
She let more tears fall, lacking the willpower to stop them. Her lips quivered, restraining the sobs that wanted so badly to burst from her mouth; the rest of her body shook with them, and soon, she was trembling like a newborn lamb. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery, and her face was red from agony and frustration.  
Though, her rational mind could not deny such truth; being strong did not mean that she could not cry. It did not mean that she could not be affected by the crippling sadness in her heart; surely no one could turn away from such horrid feelings.  
No, she was still strong; there was just only so much that she could take. True strength would be to overcome such grief and powerlessness, and emerge triumphantly over her abuser.   
Giving up would make her weak. Giving up would make her a failure and a coward.  
She could not bear to roll over for such a vile man, and face her family in the afterlife. She had made a quick, calculated promise to herself that she would work to grow stronger.  
She could do this. She had her intelligence and prior self-training; all she had to do was utilize her strengths at the most precise of times.  
Why had he done such a thing to her? Why had he been so hell-bent on killing her kin and forcing himself on her? Why had he not killed her, instead? She had been the weakest out of the two of them; she did not have anything that she could offer to him. He had said it himself, back at her old home – he did not need her healing methods, thanks to his immortality.  
Healing was about the only thing that she knew how to do. She could barely defend herself, and her kunai-throwing skills were mediocre. She did not have a bloodline limit, unless she wanted to count her family’s healing technique. Her cognitive skills, he could have found anywhere else.  
‘His God must have plans for me. Am I to be his next grand sacrifice?’ The very thought made the hairs on her skin rise. Jashin’s rituals were gruesome and terrifying; she had heard many rumors. Not to mention, Hidan, himself, was a very cruel and brutal man. She would suffer greatly before she died.  
‘He’ll chain me here and hack me up slowly, savouring my pain. He’ll leave me to die a very slow death, and mock me as I take my last breath. Escape will be hard, and actually harming him will be ever harder.’  
Harming him was, in one way, a goal of hers in hopes of appeasing her brother’s restless soul. Nonetheless, she wanted to harm him for her, too. She wanted to test her limits, to show herself that she was capable and resilient, regardless of what was done to her. She wanted to make him curse himself for underestimating her, and hate himself for allowing a civilian woman to injure him.  
It would be magnificent; he would not find pleasure in the way she would harm him. Instead, he would feel her humiliation, anger, and sorrow, and she would transfer those feelings unto him like an incurable plague.  
Nearby voices jostled her back to reality. She discontinued her empowering thoughts.  
Her eyes had been dry for the past few minutes, her rage driving her to an emotional state just beyond grief. They darted around quickly, making sure that she was still the only one in the room. The dim light that illuminated all of the walls and furniture forced her to strain her eyes.  
No. The voices were coming from the hallway. They were distant, but they were moving closer.   
She had been basking in silence since Hidan had left; noises had become oddly foreign to her. Strangely enough, they even frightened her.  
“Bu… Sacr… fice her…” A rather loud voice was hard to miss. What had they been saying? Something about a sacrifice? Seven listened nervously, as the voices moved closer to the door.  
Another loud voice boomed back, loud and clear, “fuck yes!”  
She could acknowledge that the voice belonged to Hidan, but who was the other person? She could not recognize their voice. She could not even hypothesize their gender, as of yet.  
The genderless voice spoke, again, coming through more clearly this time, “…When… date… kill…?”  
The poor woman’s eyes widened, though she scolded herself for being surprised. They were talking about her execution date, were they not? Yes, that had to be it. They had been talking about when Hidan was planning to sacrifice her. She gritted her teeth and had to force herself to cease shaking.  
Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. This was the Akatsuki’s base, after all. They could have been talking about another prisoner.  
She struggled to hear Hidan’s mumbled reply, but to no avail; it was as if he knew that she was listening.  
“Damn it…” She growled, becoming more and more irritated with each passing second of incoherent speech.  
“…Too soon.” The other voice responded.   
Seven now recognized them as another male. Yes, she definitely agreed with them; any time that he had in mind to kill her was far too soon. But what was he planning? How would he do it? When would he do it?  
“… two… that good…?” Hidan replied.  
Two weeks? Two months? Two days…? That was not enough time. And why was he consulting another member about her execution? Could he be conversing with another Jashinist?  
She found herself becoming frantic. Another anxiety attack was beginning to surface, but she did her best to calm her heartbeat. An anxiety attack would not due in her current situation; she could not allow Hidan to witness her in such a vulnerable state.  
Her breath caught in her throat when she heard the doorknob begin to jiggle. All at once, her efforts to swallow her anxiety were shattered.   
He was back, again.   
She only had two days or two months or two weeks.   
Flare was dead.   
She had been raped, and she would be raped, again.  
She could not take the sudden influx of emotions, and she could not stop the tears from dripping quickly down her face, like a stream of melancholy.   
Hidan burst into the room and immediately locked eyes with her. It did not take him but a second to realize that she was in distress.  
“Aw, is my little Seven upset?” The madman asked with mock concern.  
Her vision was becoming blurry, as if she was having a nightmare. Slowly, everything but the Jashinist faded to black, and it was as though the world had swallowed everything but them; it was as though he was the new God of her world.  
The priest could tell that the damage he had inflicted upon her mental health had been great, and relished in this fact. Perhaps, with a little more prodding, she would completely shut down and submit to him. However, judging by the fire that was in her eyes after he had first finished with her, he highly doubted that.  
Numerous moments passed before he noticed that she was beginning to come back to her right mind. Unlike the other women, she had not screamed or begged him to release her; she had simply lay there with wide, horrified eyes, willing her inner workings to relax. He found himself growing both frustrated and impatient. Instilling terror was his specialty, but it seemed as though this woman had put up a barrier to prevent his hysteria from fully whisking her away.  
When she finally managed to get a hold on her emotions, she was surprised to see her captor staring at her with expressionless eyes. She did not know what made her more nervous, the times where she could not read him or the times where she could.  
At this point in her capture, she was at a total loss for what to do. She knew that gathering her strength would take a long time; perhaps a few weeks, if she received semi-regular food and water and remained relatively uninjured.  
‘But does that mean that I should just roll over and take it? Can I even do that? He’ll tear me apart slower if I comply, which might give me a bit more time to plan.’ She nibbled on her lower lip, breaking eye contact with the madman for an instant to think. ‘Giving in doesn’t sit right with me, but I’m backed into a corner. He’s restrained me and he’s much stronger than me. He can withhold food, water, and rest, and he will continue to put a huge strain on my mental health.’  
Without a doubt, Seven knew that conquering Hidan and escaping alive would be the most difficult thing that she would ever do. Every option would have to be considered; countless backup plans would have to be generated.  
She would have to keep her wits unmarred, if nothing else.  
Hidan stepped out of the doorway and allowed his comrade entrance to his chamber. Judging by the careful look on her visage, he guessed that she was too deep in thought to notice the second presence.  
He glanced back at the blonde and grinned, “Take your fucking time. Just make sure it hurts.”  
That was when Seven finally looked up. Her eyes focussed on Hidan, confused as to what he had just said. Then, she realized that there was another person sharing the room with them. Worst yet, she recognized his cold stare and voracious smirk.  
‘That’s the man from the hallway, Deidara. He was with the redhead, Sasori. But why the hell would Hidan invite him into the room? They didn’t seem like they were friends.’  
Getting a grasp on Hidan’s relations was not her biggest problem, however.  
‘Is he…? No way. He said that I was Jashin’s gift. He can’t be… giving me to him…?’ It dawned upon her gradually.  
Yes. That was exactly what was happening. She was being passed around, like nothing more than a prostitute.  
‘At least prostitutes get money for their business. Some of them even enjoy what they do. What do I get out of this? There will be no pleasure, no happiness, and no gain.’  
She locked eyes with Deidara’s ice blue orb, shaking her head slowly. She could not stop herself from looking like a scared little animal. Eyes wide and lower lip quivering rapidly, she watched as the cruel blonde took a step toward her.  
Where had her strength disappeared to? She needed to get it back; she was hopeless without it.  
“Stop.” She muttered, hating how she did not dare to raise her voice against a criminal.  
Where had her tough, cold voice disappeared to, the same one that she had used to scare away Flare’s bullies when he had been but four years old?  
She gasped when she felt an unfriendly hand stroke to side of her face, and furrowed her brows when she felt the cool metal of a ring ghost over her lips.  
He was petting her as though she was an obedient animal that did not have the right – did not have a voice – to speak in contradiction of her masters.  
Unconsciously, her arms and legs struggled against their restraints, gently rattling the chains that bound her to the bed.  
She could not believe that this was happening.


	7. 'Til Death's Done Us Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deidara sinks his venomous fangs into Seven, who will stop at nothing to escape from the wrath of the two heartless men. What will be the harsh cost of her defiance? Meanwhile, Tsunade sends out a search team to hunt her down, determined to discover why Seven Toho was targeted by an Akatsuki member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
> 
> Please read: Major trigger warning for this chapter.
> 
> WARNING: Violence, physical abuse, graphic non-consent, trauma recovery, and dark themes.

Seven focussed her mind on the chakra that flowed through her body, concentrating on its blue essence bubbling within her stomach, instead of the bile that wanted so desperately to escape.  
She was no stranger to chakra control; watching Flare train for several months had helped her to refine and personalize the technique. She had watched him sit still for hours on end, in a meditative mental state that he would later use during battle. She had replicated his concentration, and had even asked Shikaku for a few pointers. At last, she had been able to feel the chakra that streamed steadily throughout her being, symbolizing that she was worthy enough to hone her powers.  
Day and night, she had stared at the image of the alchemic circle scribed by her parents, in a small journal that detailed their efforts to create a powerful healing technique.   
This circle is the key to the technique. I know it. Her mother, Cadence Toho, had scribed hastily, within the margins of the book.  
Seven had practiced drawing it many times throughout the day, for several weeks, until it began to appear in her dreams.  
Only when you are able to see the circle in your dreams, will you be able to perform the technique. Her father, Grayson Toho, had written.  
She had leapt from her bed upon awakening from her mystical dream of the circle, eager to begin the next step, eager to progress further than her parents had been able to.  
Focus on the circle while simultaneously forcing your chakra into your hands.  
She had tried this for weeks, unsuccessful each time.  
Flipping through the remnants of their journals for clues on how to cross such a troublesome milestone, she had found a helpful hint from her mother: Draw the circle on the ground and keep it nearby. Focus. Place your hands over it. Fuse it to your very soul.  
She had sat on the kitchen floor for hours, the circle drawn in front of her in black chalk that would later leave a dark stain on the tiles.  
Hope had driven her to keep at it.  
Pride had forced her to endure hunger and exhaustion.  
Two more days had passed before she saw a warm, green hue being emitted from her palms. Flare, who had been making himself a sandwich at the counter, had stopped and stared in awe. A small smile had fluttered across her visage, and she had been able to maintain the hue for about twenty seconds before her consciousness was depleted.  
It was hours later before she finally came to. Shikaku and Flare had been hovering over her nervously, chattering amongst themselves about her well-being. Though neither of them were truthful with the old Nara about studying their parents’ healing techniques, she had known that he was a smart, deductive man. The last time she had seen him on a normal circumstance, without a cruel, malicious psychopath hunting them down, she knew that he had figured them out. Why he had chosen to remain silent about their efforts to replicate the very work that had placed an assassination warrant over their parents’ head, she did not know.  
But she had been grateful to him for leaving them be.  
Once home, she continued to work hard on her new power. It took a while before she had been able to perform the technique without drawing the circle, and it took even longer for her to stop passing out due to exhausting her chakra reserves. Presently, she continued to struggle with chakra exhaustion, which came on quicker for a regular civilian like her than for a ninja-in-training like Flare.  
Once she had gotten the hang of the technique, she had taught it to her brother, who got the hang of it within a week. Though, up until the last time he had casted it, he had never been able to perform it without drawing the alchemic circle. Seven wondered if he would have eventually surpassed her, and used it to save the lives of his comrades. With a heart as large and as kind as his had been, she reckoned that he would have made their parents proud.  
But, now was not the time for fond memories.  
Still chained to the bed of a madman, Seven worked to master chakra control. With no use of her hands or her feet, she found that it was exceedingly difficult to tame the chakra that crashed like unruly waves within her. Feeding bit by bit of her chakra in to her hands was exhausting, particularly without food, water, and rest, but she had no choice; she needed to have more than just healing in her arsenal, if she wanted to live. She needed to be able to push chakra into her other limbs, and use them offensively.  
Hidan was under the assumption that she could do nothing more than heal; he had not yet figured out that she was determined to get stronger. He believed that it was only her mental strength that he had to break, that she was too physically weak to resist him.  
She tugged at the metal chains that clasped her wrists and smirked tiredly. They were regular chains; they were not designed to drain chakra.  
He had grossly underestimated her.  
Though she had no way of determining the time of day, she was sure that he had not returned to her for at least one day. He had not fed her or allowed her to bathe. He had given her a few gulps of water, but only enough to keep her alive. Her throat was drier than a desert and her stomach felt as though it was ready to cave in. Furthermore, her body was covered in blood, grime, and mixed semen. She was utterly repulsive.  
If there was one thing she hated – other than Hidan, of course – it was being filthy. Her mind was focussed on the sticky, nauseating state of her body, among other things, and her concentration was marred by the mere thought of her physical discomfort.  
She opened her eyes slowly, but she was only met with darkness. He had blown out the candles when he had left, basking her in the cool blackness of the cave. Her eyes were unable to adjust, no matter how hard she tried. Thus, she was left with exhaustion, pain, memories, and unqualified resolve.  
Every so often, she would drift off and awaken to the feeling of a hand on her thigh or a tongue against her neck. Nearly ripping the chains from the bedposts each time, in a sweaty torpor, she was relieved to find that it had only been her imagination.  
Her own mind was beginning to rebel against her sanity, haunting her with greedy, fabricated touches and the discomfort she felt from being beaten bloody.   
The terrors that haunted her were like a hawk’s talons, ripping relentlessly into her abdomen.

\--------------

He ran his filthy hand along her body, watching her face intently for any reaction that she would give him.  
Seven was in turmoil, though she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing so; her stomach was in knots, her lower body ached, her lungs were refusing to take in enough oxygen, and her head throbbed flippantly, like a tribal drum.  
She started at him with cold, hard eyes. The shock value of him being there had vanished, along with her calm demeanor. She was prepared to scream at him, buck him off of her, and fight for her life. Though, would she be emitting the reaction that she wanted – no, the reaction that she needed? Would causing an uproar get her anywhere safer?  
Though Hidan was standing across the room, he was watching them like a hawk. If she made any move to strike or lash out at Deidara, he would be on her in seconds. Then, she would have two vile, angry criminals to deal with.  
It took several moments for her calmness to return; several moments of heavy petting, of lustful staring, of light snickering.  
No. Causing an uproar would get her nowhere healthier. She had to be calm, had to address the situation properly.  
She tensed when she felt a rough, calloused hand ghost over her nipple, and hissed when she felt something wet slide across the perky bud. She watched as Deidara raised his opposite hand to reveal a rather out-of-place mouth; tongue, teeth, and all.  
The odd sight stunned her for a moment.  
‘Must be some sort of bloodline jutsu. Though, not one I’ve ever heard of.’ Seven mused, wondering how he could possibly use mouthed hands in battle.  
She remain outwardly unfazed, impressing the man who had now placed himself partly atop her. Most people were weary and disgusted by his hands; he had expected a regular civilian like herself to be more surprised. Many of the other women had been horrified, going as far as to scream or call him degrading names.  
‘It’s too bad she hasn’t tried my patience enough, yet.’ He thought, darkly, reminiscing on how the previous woman had ripped and clawed at her bindings after he had threatened to brand her from the inside-out with his explosives. The fleeting expression of terror on her face had made her look absolutely tantalizing. He found himself wishing that Seven would direct something cruel at him, so that he could show her the full extent of his rage.  
His erect manhood pressed against her thigh, giving her an idea of what he was going to take from her. Seven paid no mind to the sudden friction, determined to put on a stone-face and uphold a nonchalant attitude.  
She could not let him win – not after she had let Hidan win, only hours before.  
She would not scream or yell, she would not react when he teased and penetrated her, and she would certainly not grovel.  
Making hard eye contact with him, once again, her concrete gaze whispered the words of a warrior, ‘hit me with your best shot.’  
Deidara smirked.   
God, did he loved a good challenge. She did not understand that he was nothing like Hidan; he would not show her any mercy because she was supposedly a gift from some occult deity. He was much smarter than Hidan, and much quicker on his feet. She would neither outwit him nor escape from him, like he knew she was desperately planning to do. If anything, he would break her before Hidan could even attempt to.  
Her fall would be ephemeral, sweet, and endearingly artistic.  
“What’s your name… hn?” He demanded, speaking harshly.  
Seven’s face crinkled in confusion, processing his question. He knew what her name was; Hidan had mentioned it in passing, and she had heard him repeat it. She supposed that this was another way for him to assert his dominance over her, by forcing her to respond like a pet.  
“You know my name.” She countered, neither openly defying him nor ignoring him.  
She had simply stated a fact. And, if he was more rational and patient than Hidan, she would not be punished for her dignified response.  
‘Just testing the waters,’ she mused, swallowing nervously.  
Deidara had expected her to remain silent and defiant. Silence would have earned her a hard strike, whereas flinging insults at him would have earned her prolonged torture. He recalled one of the previous women telling him to go fuck himself, a response that had her writhing in agony from having two of her fingers blown off.  
Looking over his shoulder at the foul-mouthed Jashinist, who was leaning against the far wall with a sadistic grin on his face, he called, “You sure picked a rebellious one. More of a personality than the previous few… hn.”  
The priest nodded knowingly, having already adapted to his captive’s irregular demeanour. “Damn right. She’s only a submissive little bitch when she’s scared. Isn’t that right, my little Seven?”  
She hated the condescending name that he had chosen for her. Little Seven. How bold of him, to believe that she was small compared to him.   
Deidara did not miss the anger that appeared on her visage for but a split second. It was clear that she had already harboured a deep hatred for Hidan and the pet name he had given her. Good; he would remember that.  
He chuckled darkly, moving his hand down to rub her inner thigh.   
She tensed upon feeling the warmth of his hand so close to her womanhood. She understood that he was looking for any sort of reaction from her, inspecting her body and her mind to determine what made her tick. Well, if she had anything to do with it, she would hide her nature in the depths of her mind; neither of them would truly know her, and so neither of them would be able to take anything of value away from her.  
“I’ll tell you what scares her,” Hidan’s mocking voice tore through her thoughts, making her frown involuntarily, “fucking up and watching her brother die.”  
He did not just say that.  
Deidara raised a thin blonde brow, interested in hearing more, but keeping his cold blue eye locked on his victim.  
“Kakuzu killed her brother. Beat me to it. Well, actually, she killed her brother. If she would have just kept her promise like an obedient little slave, he would still be alive.”  
Seven’s eyes were wide. Her body trembled like an earthquake.  
“You slaughtered her family… hn?”  
Hidan laughed whole-heartedly, “That little piss-ant was the only family she had! They lived on the outskirts of this shitty little village in the Land of Fire. I would have gotten to the rest of the village, but Kakuzu lost his shit and hunted me down. Piece of shit. Stealing my prey and interrupting my ritual slaughter.  
The woman gritted her teeth, repressing pitiful screams and sobs of frustration. He was not wrong. Perhaps she had been the cause of Flare’s untimely death. Maybe he would not have killed him, had she given up and went with him, as she had promised. The priest had been infuriated that she had gone back on her word, and her kin had paid the price.  
Older siblings were supposed to protect their younger siblings; she had protected Flare since their parents had died. Then, the one time when it truly mattered, where life and death went hand-in-hand and every move acted as a butterfly effect, she had dropped the ball. He had been killed in her name, and it tore her apart.  
She felt numb – dead inside – as if a frigid autumn wind had gusted across her chest, firmly freezing her core.  
“In fact, I was thinking…” Hidan stood up straight and walked over to where the pair lay. Moving his face into Seven’s line of sight, he was pleased to see that he had most certainly caught her undivided attention. “…Maybe I’ll go back and finish the job.”  
She would not take the bait. No. Just as before, he saw it fit to mentally crucify her, using her home village to reprimand her. ‘How could anyone get to be this fucking insane…? How the fuck could anyone believe that these threats, this torture, this mental destruction are all right?!’  
Just then, everything became clear. A deafening snap resounded in the depths of her mind, making all of her thoughts, all of her worries, and all of her pain ignite into one grand hellfire. Realization replaced bordering insanity, and enlightenment overtook guilt. Thousands of memories and thoughts replayed themselves in unison, making the poor woman grit her teeth from the sheer intensity of her cognitive load.  
“…I didn’t kill my brother, Hidan.” She uttered, with a dangerously composed voice. “You did.”  
Both men were taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor, though it was Deidara who caught on quicker than Hidan. He moved off of the girl, allowing Hidan to take him spot in an attempt to intimidate her.  
‘She’s high on vengeance, and her mind is shielding her from the pain that’s been inflicted. This is the only way for her to keep her sanity intact. She’s fighting against us the only way that she can.’ The blonde thought, his smirk only growing broader. ‘Heh. Let’s see if I can’t destroy this strong spirit of hers.’  
“What the fuck are you on about, now?” Hidan asked, exasperatedly, outright confused by her transition.  
“You would have killed Flare, anyway, even if I had gone with you. Following Jashin requires you to maim and sacrifice everyone in your path. You wouldn’t defy Him.” Her bright eyes bored into Hidan’s lavender irises as she spoke. “I can’t stop you from doing anything, if you’ve got your mind set on it. If you say you’re going to destroy my village, then you’re going to destroy my village.”  
Hidan cursed his luck. This woman was so fucking infuriating. She could not be broken by promises that were false or fulfilled. One moment she looked as though she were having a breakdown, cowering before his very presence. The next, she took a strong stance against him and embarrassed him in front of his comrade.  
‘…Embarrassing me in front of Deidara, of all fucking people! As if that blonde fucker doesn’t have enough on me… Now he thinks a fucking slave woman can boss me around…’  
In a strong, but unstable state of power, Seven could not recognize the sweltering anger in Hidan’s expression until it was too late.  
She felt the chains that bound her arms and neck being unclasped clumsily, and was stunned when she was dragged off of the bed and onto her feet. She did not know if it was the air of confidence in her voice, or the condescending tone by which she had addressed him, but when his fist connected with her right eye, she knew that she had somehow gone too far.  
The punch made her stumble backward, but he did not allow her to fall to the ground. Keeping a firm grip on her wrist, he pulled her so that she lurched face-first into his chest. Grabbing a fist-full of her hair, he leaned down to stare at her newly inflamed eye and startled expression. Seven noticed the treacherous grin on his visage and trembled involuntarily. She had not expected him to lash out so suddenly, so violently.  
Just as he had underestimated her, she had underestimated him. Now, she would pay the price.  
“I’ve put up with your shit for too long, woman. It’s time to break you in.”  
He pinned her to the wall, one hand wrapped tightly around her neck and held her there, relishing in the gurgling sounds being emitted from her throat. Her sharp nails raked down his exposed arm, clawing into his flesh enough to make him bleed, but he refused to stand down. A cruel smile had slithered its way onto his lips, as he took in the terror that had sprawled out gracelessly on her face.  
This was exactly what he had wanted, for her to be frightened of him.  
Fear was the only way to make her obey him, and if he had to toss her near Death’s doorstep to instill such a striking emotion, then he would do it full-heartedly. As long as she did not die, anything he did to her was fair game.  
He pounded her head against the wall, again, tightening his fingers around her bruised throat. He could feel her oesophagus constricting, a sign that it was close to collapsing.   
Any harder, and she would no longer have that annoying voice of hers. But any harder, and she also had a good chance of dying.  
Deidara watched the spectacle with an unamused expression. It was true; the woman had crossed the line. She had spoken out against her master, neglecting any rational reasoning within her head. Normally, he would say that she deserved the punishment that she was receiving.  
However, this woman was not normal, nor were the feeling harbouring within his chest.  
He did not know why the beating of the lowly Toho was bothering him so much; he had done far, far worse to the previous slave women. He had blown them up, piece by piece, until only their heads –baring horrified, fleeting expressions – remained. He had beaten disobedient women who had attempted to run away from him, and women who had alienated him for having extra mouths.  
Now, as he watched Seven’s cheeks turn from pink to white and her eyes begin to glaze over, he could not help but feel somewhat disheartened.  
The way she looked down at Hidan with glossy, near-dead eyes, silently begging him to stop, as though he were the God of her world…  
He wanted her to look at him that way. He wanted to hold her life in his hands. That transitory look of panic would be directed at him, instead of Hidan, and then he would be recognized as the one who was the master of her universe.  
He sighed heavily, longingly, and took a mental snapshot of the black-crowned woman. It was like this, tacked against the wall and dying, that she looked undeniably beautiful.  
How many times had he given her the illusion that he was going to kill her? She willed herself to believe that he would not yet kill her, but her comprehensive abilities were beginning to fade along with her oxygen. Her mind was beginning to go blank, and her lungs were burning. Her throat was aching dully, and her vision was beginning to falter. She could not help but think that being suffocated was a very painful, sorrowful, and humiliating end.  
‘If I could speak…’ She thought, hazily, ‘…if I could reason with him…’  
But it was too late for that; she had been dealt a bad hand. Her future murderer – Flare’s murderer – had tortured, demeaned, and raped her. No matter how hard she had tried, he had been too physically strong. She had tried to win, though she had gotten too cocky. She had let her emotions ignite within her, like a stormy ocean. Something had snapped, and her insanity had been washed away, only to be replaced by overzealous confidence.  
She had truly thought that she would prevail, that she would find a way to escape.  
She had spoken out of turn, just once. Now, she would be lucky if she ever spoke, again.  
Just as she felt her mind begin to wither into blackness, the strong hand released her neck, sending her toppling to the ground.  
Laying on her side for several seconds, her mouth opened generously, and sucked in a great amount of stale, musty oxygen. Shock was present on her visage; the tides had changed in the blink of an eye. Through glassy eyes, she attempted to take in her surroundings, to register what had just happened.   
She inhaled and exhaled strongly, not having the mental or physical strength to move into a sitting position. Pathetic as she may have looked, she could only respire, hack, and praise the heavens that something had made him spare her life.  
‘Another stroke of luck… Fuck, another stroke of luck.’ She thought.  
How had she been able to survive, thus far? Why was he so keen on torturing her, playing with her ideas of life and death? The answer was clear in her mind, though she could not wrap her head around the concept: he hoped to break her.  
She had sustained many severe wounds during her vicious night-long battle with Hidan. He had also deprived her of food and water for several days. Now, she had nearly been asphyxiated by the same powerful madman, who seemed to think himself her benevolent God.  
Was he even close to breaking her?  
Her answer would be contingent on how she felt before and after his cruel methodologies.  
A swift kick to her back made her choke on the air that flowed into her mouth, sending her into a coughing fit. Her spine rattled as the pain from the kick slunk down her body.  
Hands gripped her upper arms, and she was dragged to her feet remorselessly. One hand collected her wrists and bound them behind her back, while the other hand coiled itself around her chin, forcing her to stare at the intrigued blonde terrorist who was now leaning casually against the wall. Her vision was blurry, and – try as she may – she could not open her right eye. Part of her feared that she would lose her vision completely, though another part of her whispered that she had even worse things to deal with.  
Hidan’s hot breath suddenly appeared next to her ear, and she can hear him chuckle darkly amidst her heavy panting, “Did I hurt you…?” The mock sympathy that dripped from his lethal tongue made her want to vomit.  
The hand that held her chin gently slid up to her damaged eye, and she winced when fingers lightly pressed against the bruised flesh. They lingered there for a few moments, prodding the wound with interest, before his hand snaked its way down her cheek. He snorted, “Yeah… I guess I did.”  
His tone was light, jovial, and loving, as if he was sitting at home with her and reassuring her that tomorrow would be a better day, that her eye would heal, that he was there to support her always.  
What the fuck kind of a game was he playing?  
His chuckles transitioned into insane hiccups as he felt her tense beneath his gentle touches, “I didn’t mean to hit you, my little Seven,” he cooed, “I just wanted you to submit. You understand, right?”  
No, she did not fucking understand.  
He had given her a black eye and nearly choked her out. For what? So that he could take out his anger on someone, so that he could treat her like an anger management doll that he could so fruitlessly kick around whenever he needed a little stress relief. Her jaw clenched painfully when she felt his hand grip her hip.  
‘Stay calm, Seven. Just… bite back your anger for now.’ She thought to herself.  
Frustrated, she nibbled roughly on her lower lip. She could not afford to be brave, again; not after Hidan had shown her how sporadic his temper could be. One false word and she could end up dead before she even had the chance to hone her powers.  
The cultist kept a firm grasp on her wrists as he led her toward the bed.  
Not again.  
“No…” she rasped, digging her heels into the ground.  
Hidan snickered maliciously, moving down so that his warm breath ghosted over the shell of her ear, “you never had a goddamn choice in the matter.”  
Her feet began to kick wildly as the Jashinist picked her up from behind and tossed her onto the bed, covering her form with his own before she could flip onto her back. Digging around in one of his pockets, he produced a gag he had innovated from a piece of dirty cloth. Locking it against her protesting mouth and tucking a section of it past her teeth, he took solace in the sound of her choking on her own spit.  
She continued to fight for her life, even as she felt Hidan’s hands grasp her wrists and hold them against her lower back. She could feel his sardonic eyes drilling into her as he kneeled onto the bed to gain more leverage. Her muffled yelps and protests echoed off of the walls when she heard the other man in the room moving to take his position behind her.  
Thrashing now more than ever, Deidara found it difficult to ease himself into the woman he was hell-bent on using. She twisted her body back and forth with vigor that surprised him. Even after being beaten and choked, she still had the energy of a little spitfire. Temper beginning to flare, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and shoved her face into the mattress.  
“You’re only making this worse for yourself… hn.” He taunted, releasing a frigid snigger as she tried to kick him away.  
Seven tried to pay little mind to the blonde’s cryptic words, still struggling violently against Hidan’s invasive hold on her arms. If she could break Hidan’s hold for even just a second, she would be able to scoot away from the both of them and buy some time.  
The priest took joy in her struggles, and almost wished that he could join the bomber in his harsh sexual escapade. There was a beat-up naked woman on his bed, completely unwilling and full of hatred for him; it was enough to make his manhood swell with excitement.  
“You’re making me want to fuck you again…” he purred, making her freeze.  
Deidara took her moment of stillness as an advantageous opportunity, and slipped his hardened penis into her entrance.  
“No!” Seven’s muffled screech made Hidan laugh victoriously, as he continued to hold her down until his colleague was finished. He was pleasantly surprised when he found that she had harnessed some sort of hidden physical strength from being abused again, as her hands began to claw at his arms viciously and it became more of a challenge to keep her steady.  
Mere hours after being sexually abused by the malicious priest, the act was being inflicted upon her yet again. Adrenaline pumping, she willed her body to use up whatever energy reserves it could spare in order to squirm away from the two wretched men.   
‘Weak… I can’t believe how weak I am…!’ She panted pathetically, and gasped when she felt Deidara ram carelessly against her cervix. Before being abducted, she had believed herself to be capable enough to fend off at least one or two men. Now, though, she realized that she had been too cocky, and far too focussed on healing. ‘Healing is no good to me if I can’t defend myself…’ She thought of how many times Shikaku had offered to teach her a variety of defensive skills, and of how many times she had brushed him off.  
“Save those teachings for Flare; he’ll need them more than I will,” she had said.  
“Just thought I’d offer. You never know when they’ll come in handy.” Shikaku had retorted.  
How right he had been. Perhaps if she had taken the time to hear him out, she would be able to prevent her assaults. ‘And Flare’s death,’ her conscience added.  
The blonde Akatsuki was on cloud nine; he could not believe how good she felt. It had been a long time since he had had a woman, and he had expected her to be loose from Hidan’s earlier penetration. The way she squeezed her thighs around his waist as she kicked at him only made her insides hug him tighter.  
“Ah, my little Seven,” he groaned, jerking her head up by her hair, “your body is reacting to me… hmn.”  
He was not wrong. In order to ease the sudden penetration, her body had begun to self-lubricate, making her tunnel slicker. Seven paused her movements, heart thudding and lungs burning.  
“Fuck right off.” She whispered.  
She had nothing more to say to them; all of her protests would be unheard, anyway. They would not stop.  
“When the hell did you grow a pair?” Hidan growled, upset that she was not a blubbering mess. By now, her pride and self-esteem should have been non-existent. She should have been begging for them to stop. It was clear that she did not see them as a true threat to her person, that she held herself higher than them. ‘I’ll show you exactly what you are, you cocky bitch.’  
He turned to his blonde comrade, face contorted in a mix of frustration and anger, “make her cry.”  
Her head was slammed into the bedsheets punitively, and she bit back a shriek as Deidara forced himself into her at an angle that made her stomach ache. It felt like he was tearing through her with a hot, thick spear, wildly jabbing her cervix with the sharp tip. She had never experienced such pain during sex, and it was not long before tears began to spill from her closed lids. She concentrated on the metallic taste of blood that swashed around in her mouth, determined to make as few noises as possible. The last thing she wanted was to have them think that they had won.  
Noting that she was no longer struggling against them, Deidara smirked. Hidan, however, was not yet satisfied. ‘Not until she’s in tears.’  
He grabbed a fistful of her dark locks and yanked, pulling her face from the mattress. Upon resurfacing, Seven released a breath of air that she had not realized she had been holding.  
“How does it feel?” Hidan’s voice broke through the atmosphere of the room, disrupting Seven’s concentration. His nails dug into her wrists, creating shallow cuts, “Once an innocent civilian, and now nothing more than a cheap slut for S-ranked criminals!”  
“I thou… th-thought I told you… to f-fuck off…!” The woman stammered through gritted teeth.  
“And I thought I told you to fucking submit!”  
“I won’t!”  
Oh, but she was so close; he could see it on her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she was sweating profusely. Her body was shaking, and she had stopped wriggling around. Blood dribbled from her mouth, indicating that she had bitten down on her tongue to supress a scream. Reddened eyes told him that tears had already been shed. ‘Just a little bit more…’  
Deidara slipped his hands around to grab her breasts, letting his mouthed hands suckle on the erect nipples. She grunted, but showed no sign of buckling. Unfortunately for her, the blonde Akatsuki member was used to dealing with unruly women in the bedroom. Teeth began to bite down on the buds, gnawing and chewing harshly. From the sheer agony that erupted from both her upper and lower body, Hidan was finally able to witness her breaking point.  
The scream she released rattled what little furniture the room kept, and would happily lull the Jashinist to sleep on nights to come. She twisted her torso to and fro, adamant on getting the mouths to release her poor, injured body parts. The albino laughed viciously, egging his comrade on. In between laughs, he jeered at her, “just submit, you stupid bitch!”  
She could not form words. Only shrieks and cries were able to fly past her lips. What a dirty trick, they had played on her, though, she should have known that they would use pain to make her buckle. Still, she would not beg; she may have given them her voice and her tears, but she would not give them herself.  
Somehow, through her wails, she heard the man behind her grunt and push into her faster. Thankfully, he released her tender, bloody nipples in favour of grabbing her hips. Wide-eyed and winded, she felt him fill her up with his semen, pushing himself so far inside of her that she thought he would break past her cervix.  
Faintly, as vision began to dim, she felt Hidan release her arms.  
“You better not have gotten her pregnant, blondie.” The immortal murmured. He let go of the Toho’s hair, gleefully observing that he had ripped out quite a few strands of luscious dark brown.  
“Whatever. It’s not like she’ll live long enough to have it, anyway… hmn.”  
Regularly, the Jashinist would have begrudgingly agreed. But Seven was an abnormal case; he did not know when he would be rid of her. His Lord had told him that she would have to accept His graces before she could be allowed to savour death, and he had thought for sure that he would have her begging by now.  
Jashin had whispered, “Beware, Hidan. Your task shall not be easy. She is intelligent. She is analytical and bold. She will do what it takes to survive, if you do not show her the true purpose in which she must serve.”  
‘Bold’ had been an understatement. He had already known of her ability to be analytical; that much had been displayed when she had escaped from him a total of four times before her final capture. As much as he hated to admit it, she may have managed to escape a fifth time without Kakuzu’s unexpected intervention. Tonight, she had splayed her boldness for both of them to see. She had mouthed off a handful of times, despite realizing that she would be harmed for her insolence. He had not known that such harsh, foul language could be spat from the young woman’s sweet, luscious lips.  
“Fuck right off.” She had whispered to Deidara, a man whom had later proved to be extraordinarily pitiless and destructive. The priest wondered, after being both physically and sexually assaulted by the blonde, would the woman have the audacity to go against him, again?  
While Deidara moved away to clean himself up, muttering something about having to be up in less than four hours, Hidan flipped the woman onto her back to admire their work.  
Seven Toho was a bloody, unconscious mess. The skin around her eye had turned shades of pink and purple, and the eye itself would be swollen shut for a few days. There was dried blood on her lips and around her mouth, from when she had bitten her tongue to stop from screaming. He chuckled as he took in the welts and scratches that were scattered about her neck and wrists from being manhandled and restrained. Nevertheless, he could not tell which sight he enjoyed the most, her battered and bloodied breasts or the semen that dotted her thighs and seeped out of her womanhood.  
They had outdone themselves!  
Not only had they brought out a rebellious survival-like side of her, they had also inflicted long-lasting damage on her pretty little body. Hidan cackled callously, taking a mental image of the girl for nights where he would only have his hand. A few more days of unwelcome advances and torture, and she would shatter into pieces like fine china.  
He thought himself devious and he thought himself a king.  
Her king.

\--------------

Genma Shiranui, Raido Namiashi, and Ko Hyuuga entered Dan’s Tea House, looks of sombre resolve on their faces.  
It had been less than a week since Shikaku and Chouza had been attacked by the Jashinist Hidan, and the Akatsuki member had not left them much of a paper trail to follow. Flare Toho’s mangled corpse had been found close to the small village, but there had been no trace of Seven. Signs of a struggle, depicted by muddy footprints and chipped tree bark, had been present. Shikaku lamented that a second Akatsuki member had been on his way, but the old Nara did not know if he had managed to seize the Toho siblings.  
“Why were the Akatsuki after two civilians?” Lady Tsunade had asked, the day they had returned to the Leaf Village.  
Shikaku was silent, reflecting for a moment, before responding, “I don’t think that Hidan was there on official Akatsuki business. It doesn’t make sense. Their parents had been killed for dabbling in arcane arts, and the kids’, themselves, had been practicing… But neither of them could have been very useful to the organization.”  
“I see…” the blonde woman hummed, “…did you notice anything peculiar about either of them? Any dormant talents or jutsus?”  
The dark haired man shook his head, “No. Seven was exceptionally smart, and Flare had the potential and drive to become a terrific ninja one day, but they certainly didn’t stand out when compared to the previous individuals that have been abducted by the Akatsuki.”  
That was true; the Toho family did not hold an influence over rulers, and the Akatsuki could certainly find other bright, driven young people.   
Tsunade exhaled, “…A hidden family fortune, perhaps?”  
“No way. These kids were living off their orphan’s benefit and whatever money Seven could scrape together by doing odd jobs.”  
The situation was abnormal. Tsunade had read reports of citizens being confronted by Akatsuki members before, but there had always been some superior purpose behind the outbreaks. Could this be classified as an attack by the organization?  
“You’re right… It doesn’t make sense.” The woman mumbled, deep in thought.  
Shikaku cut in, “Like I said, I think it was a random attack by one of their members. I don’t think it had anything to do with the Akatsuki, as an organization.”  
“What if they knew that two of our Jonin were going to be in the village? Could they have been targeting us, knowing that the Jonin would come to the rescue of helpless civilians?” Shizune asked, trying to fit pieces of the puzzle together, as well.  
Shikaku nodded slowly, “It’s probable, but I’m not convinced. Hidan seemed to be more interested in grabbing Seven than fighting Chouza and myself. If it was an attack targeting our Leaf ninja, wouldn’t he have gone straight for us instead of the civilians? This organization doesn’t tend to beat around the bush.”  
The dark crowned woman groaned, defeated, “…I guess you’re right.”  
With all other theories exhausted, Shikaku took a deep breath. ‘…It’s now or never.’  
“Lady Tsunade, may I request that I search for Seven To-“  
“I have a team that’s already on it. Two of them were there the night that Flare Toho’s body was found, so they’re familiar with the case and the route.” The Hokage sighed, resting her chin on folded hands. “I’m aware of the relationship you had with the Toho siblings, but I think it’s best that you stay out of this. It’s too personal. If we even manage to find any trace of the woman, it’s likely that it won’t be good. Hidan is the most violent Akatsuki member that we have on file. Seven Toho may end up just like her brother, if not worse, and that’s something that you certainly won’t want to see.”  
Her words stung, but Shikaku understood them well; he had even expected them. She was right; it was for the best that he not investigate any further into the disappearance of Seven. Upon hearing that Flare had been brutalized before his untimely death, the old Nara had felt a small section of his heart drop. The boy had reminded him of a less hyper and more attentive Naruto Uzumaki. He had been so determined to become a ninja and protect his older sister; he even knew what it was like to be alone and ostracized. Finding Seven in a similar state would hurt him just the same.  
Besides, he had his own family to focus on, as well as his and Chouza’s recoveries.  
Thus, Genma, Raido, and Ko, the Hokage’s immaculate recon team, were sent to the outskirts of the Toho’s small village. Genma and Raido had both been at the scene of the crime, only minutes after Flare Toho’s murder, so they were very familiar with the area. Shikaku had sent word for them to check in with Dan, the owner of Dan’s Tea House, a nearby outpost.  
“I told the siblings to run there. I knew that Dan would help them if they arrived.” The Nara had said.  
The shop was quaint and smelled heavily of green tea. There were four small tables with cushions around them, which looked only gently used. At the very back of the room was an doorway, which was concealed by beaded curtains. Faint humming could be heard from beyond that point.  
“Hello?” Genma called, “We’re ninja of the Hidden Leaf Village. We’d like to ask you some questions.”  
The humming stopped abruptly, and clattering could be heard from the next room. A very tall man moved the beads out of the way, ducking as he came through the doorway. He had messy brown hair and a friendly smile, greeting each of the ninja by shaking their hands. He could not have been older than twenty-five.  
“Ninja from the Hidden Leaf, eh? What could you possibly want to ask me?” He laughed.  
Raido cleared his throat, slightly intimidated by the man’s height, “Uh… We had heard from one of our comrades that he sent a young girl to your shop about four nights ago. We wanted to know if you saw anyone that matched this description…”   
The brown-haired shinobi unfolded a piece of brown paper from his pocket. There had been no recent photos of Seven Toho. Flare Toho had had his photo taken by Shikaku, in order to create his ninja identification card for the Leaf Village’s records, though Seven had been unable to afford a civilian identification card for recreational purposes. Each of the men hoped that Shikaku’s description of her physical attributes would be enough.  
“A lone woman, mid-length dark hair, green eyes, pale skin, clothed in only a heavy jacket, walks with a slight limp, about nineteen to twenty years of age. Her name is Seven Toho, a civilian of a nearby village.”  
Dan did not even have to contemplate what the man had said, “Nope, no one like that’s come around here. I would have noticed a half-naked woman, for sure.”  
Crushed, the scarred ninja looked at his comrades. Genma scowled, knowing the implication of the tea shop owner’s answer; the eldest Toho had not even made it here.  
“What’re you looking for her for, did something happen?” The young man questioned, not taking his eyes of Raido.  
Genma ignored his question, “Have you seen any men with black cloaks decorated with red clouds? Or, at least, any strange-looking travelers?”  
Dan nodded, seemingly unfazed by the bandana-wearing shinobi’s hastiness, “Looking for Akatsuki members, are ya?” The other men looked slightly surprised that the owner had even heard of the evil organization; it was not typical for civilians to know of surreal dealings within the ninja world.   
Dan chuckled good-heartedly at their faces before smirking, “Heh. Yeah. One of them asked me if I had seen his partner anywhere. Described a man with silver hair and a big scythe. The guy, himself was pretty weird looking. He wore a mask and had these piercing green eyes. He didn’t even hide his cloak from me. Probably figured I wouldn’t say a word of it to anyone. Ballsy, if you ask me.”  
Ko and Raido exchanged knowing glances while Genma kept up with the questioning, “Did you get into a confrontation with him?”  
Dan snorted, “For what? I told him I didn’t know shit about his partner. Never seen him before in my life. He left almost immediately after.”  
“Which direction did he heard toward?”  
“East.”  
Genma’s eyes narrowed. If he had headed east from the tea house, then he had headed toward the Toho’s village in search of his partner.  
“Then that means…” Ko mumbled, rolling Dan’s words over in his head, “…that the Jashinist’s partner must have intercepted the victims.”  
Raido nodded, concurring with his comrade. Shikaku had mentioned that a second chakra presence had been creeping up on them all night, though he could barely pin-point its location. The signature had likely belonged to Hidan’s partner.  
‘Shit… There’s no way she’s alive. Two Akatsuki members versus one powerless woman?’ Ko gritted his teeth at the mere thought of it. ‘That goddamn organization plays dirty.’  
“I see… Thank you for your cooperation. You’ve definitely given us a missing puzzle piece to ruminate on.” Genma said, grinning lazily at the young owner.  
Dan bowed politely, happy to have helped, “Let me know if I can ever be of assistance, ‘kay? My father and I have been allies of the Leaf for as long as I can remember.”  
Raido gave his thanks to the man for his continued patronage before catching up with his teammates, who had already made their way outside of the small tea house. They walked in silence for a while, wondering what the best course of action would be. The Hokage would be notified of this new piece of information, but where would they go next?  
“I think it’s realistic to check the Toho’s village, maybe see if anyone saw or heard anything. The only place that was searched was their house on the night of the crime.” Genma mumbled, rolling his senbon around in his mouth.  
Raido nodded, “Sounds good.”  
“And for the record, I don’t think we’re going to find this woman alive. All of the other victims that have been captured by the Akatsuki, or members of the organization, have either disappeared for good or were found about as roughed up as Flare.”  
Ko winced at the man’s tone. He could not argue; they had all been thinking it. They would be tremendously fortunate to find Seven Toho alive.  
“For now, and for as long as we are asked to follow through with this mission, let’s assume that we’re searching for a corpse.”


End file.
